THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


BEQUEST 
OF 

LOUISIANA  SCOTT  SHUMAN 


?55g?35 


RAMBLES  IN  BRITTANY 


WORKS   OF 

FRANCIS   MIL  TO  UN 

The  following,  each  i  vol.,  library  i2mo, 

cloth,  gilt  top,  profusely  illustrated. 

Net,  $2.00;  postpaid,  $2.16 

Rambles  in  Normandy 
Rambles  in  Brittany 
The  Cathedrals  and  Churches  of 
the  Rhine 


The  following,  each  1  vol.,  library  i2?no, 

cloth,  gilt  top,  profusely  illustrated. 

Postpaid,  $2  jo 

The     Cathedrals     of    Northern 

France 
The     Cathedrals     of     Southern 

France 


L.    C.   PAGE   &    COMPANY 

New  England  Building,  Boston,  Mass. 


1  Jr. 


Constable  s  Tower,  Valines 


(See  page  147) 


Rambles 

in 

BRITTANY 

By      Francis      Miltoun 

With   Many   Illustrations 

By     Blanche     McManus 


Boston 
L.    C.    PAGE    &    COMPANY 

1906 


Copyright,  iqo$ 
By  L.  C.  Page  &  Company 

(incorporated) 
All  rights  reserved 


Published  October,  1905 

LOAN  STACK 
GIFT 


COLONIAL    PRESS 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &*  Co. 

Boston,   U.S.A. 


APOLOGIA 


No  promise  given  to  the  hostess  of  one's  inn 
is  alleged  as  an  excuse  for  writing  this  book, 
but  it  is  true  that  rosy,  busy  Madame  X  of 
the  Soleil  d'Or,  in  the  fishing  village  in  which 
the  work  received  its  final  collation  and  revi- 
sion, watched  its  growth  for  many  a  week,  daily 
declaring  her  hope  of  some  day  receiving  a 
volume  containing  "  your  impressions. "  And, 
indeed,  her  hope  shall  not  be  vain,  for  one  of 
the  first  copies  shall  be  most  speedily  des- 
patched to  her.  Moreover,  the  author  and  ar- 
tist hope  that  it  may  be  acceptable  to  her  crit- 
ical mind,  for  she  is  not  likely  to  be  lenient, 
though  she  knows  full  well  that  to  the  many 
authors  and  artists  who  make  a  refuge  of  her 
modest  inn  for  months  she  owes  her  livelihood. 

The  book  is  a  record  of  many  journeys  and 
many  rambles  by  road  and  rail  around  the 
coast,  and  in  no  sense  is  it  put  forth  either 
as  a  special  or  as  a  complete  survey  of  things 
and  matters  Breton. 

v 

174 


vi  Rambles  in  Brittany- 

Many  lights  and  shadows  have  been  thrown 
upon  the  screen  from  various  points,  but  the 
effort  has  been  made  to  blend  them  all  into  a 
pleasing  whole,  which  shall  supplement  the 
guide-books  of  convention. 

It  were  not  possible  to  do  more  than  has  been 
attempted  within  the  limits  of  a  volume  such 
as  this,  and  therefore  many  details  of  routes, 
and  historical  data  of  a  relative  sort,  and  a 
certain  amount  of  topographical  information 
have  been  scattered  through  the  volume  or 
placed  in  the  appendix,  in  the  belief  that  such 
information  is  greatly  needed  in  a  work  at- 
tempting to  purvey  "  travel  talk,"  even  in 
small  measure. 

Some  of  this  knowledge  is  so  little  subject 
to  change  that  it  may  well  stand  for  all  time, 
and,  in  these  days  of  well-nigh  universal  travel, 
may  be  not  thought  out  of  place  in  a  volume 
intended  both  for  the  armchair  traveller  and 
also  for  him  who  journeys  by  road  and  rail. 
That  only  a  very  limited  quantity  of  such  infor- 
mation can  be  included  is  a  misfortune,  inas- 
much as  such  a  handbook  is  often  used  when 
no  other  aid  is  accessible  to  the  traveller. 

Finally,  the  illustrative  material,  the  large 
number  of  drawings  of  sights  and  scenes,  of 
great    architectural    monuments,    and    of    the 


Apologia  vii 


dress  of  the  people,  is  offered  less  as  a  complete 
pictorial  survey  than  as  a  panorama  of  impres- 
sions received  on  and  off  the  beaten  track, — 
and  more  satisfying  and  truthful  than  the  mere 
snap-shots  of  hurried  travel. 

In  addition,  many  maps,  plans,  and  diagrams 
should  give  many  of  the  itineraries  a  lucidity 
often  lacking  in  the  usual  railway  maps. 


CONTENTS 


Apologia 


page 
v 


PART   I. 


I.  Introductory  ..... 

II.  The  Province  and  the  People    . 

III.  The  Topography  of  the  Province 

IV.  Travel  Routes  in  Brittany 

V.  The  Breton  Tongue  and  Legend 

VI.  Manners  and  Customs  . 

VII.  The  Fisheries  .... 

PART   II. 


I.     The  Loire  in  Brittany 
II.     Nantes  to  Vannes  . 

III.  The  Morbihan  —  Vannes  and  the  "  Golfe  " 

IV.  AURAY  AND    THE    MeGALITHIC  MONUMENTS  OF 

Morbihan 

V.     Morbihan — Lorient  and    Its  Neighbour- 
hood     .... 
VI.     Finistere — South. 
VII.     Finistere  —  North. 
VIII.     The  Cotes  du  Nord 
IX.     The  Emerald  Coast 

ix 


3 
11 
33 
45 
59 
70 


99 
116 

140 

159 

179 
187 
221 
249 
271 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

X.     On    the    Road    in     Brittany  —  Mayenne, 

Fougeres,  Laval,  and  Vitre  .         .         .  309 

XL     Rennes  and   Beyond 329 

XII.     Religious  Festivals  and  Pardons       .         .  341 

Appendices 359 

Index         . 373 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Constable's  Tower,  Vannes  (See  page  lJfl)        Frontispiece 

The  Loire  at  Nantes        ....        facing  4 

Device  of  Anne  of  Brittany 17 

Anne  of  Brittany 18 

Breton  Post -card 21 

St.  Brieuc facing  30 

Croisic facing  42 

Map  of  Brittany        .....        facing  44 

The  Main  Roads  of    Brittany         ....  48 

Travel  Routes  in  Brittany 55 

St.  Pol  de  Le"on facing  60 

The  Breton  Tongue 62 

Gilles  de  Laval 66 

Young  Bretons 78 

From  the  Artist's  Sketch  Book       ....  80 

La  Coiffe  Polka 81 

Ironing  Coifs 83 

Breton  Types 85 

Douarnenez facing  88 

Pornic 113 

Donjon  of  Clisson facing  114 

St.  Nazaire 123 

Ancient  Fortifications  of  Gue'rande    (Diagram)  126 

Chateaubriant   ......        facing  128 

Children  of  Redon 133 

Tour  d'Elven facing  138 

xi 


Xll 


List  of  Illustrations 


PAGE 

Market-woman,  Vannes 142 

The  Country  near  Vannes 143 

Ancient  City  Walls,  Vannes   (Diagram)         .         .  147 

Chateau  of  Suscino facing  148 

General  Plan  of  Chateau  of  Suscino  (Diagram)  149 

Ploermel facing  152 

Shrine  of  St.  Etienne,  Josselin       ....  154 

Chateau  de  Josselin          ....        facing  156 

Interior  of  Market  -  house,  Auray         .        facing  160 

Shrine  of  St.  Roch,  Auray 162 

The  Lines  of  Carnac 168 

The  Lines  of  Carnac        ....        facing  168 

Map  of  Carnac  and  the  Surrounding  Country  .  170 

Quiberon facing  172 

Hennebont •        facing  182 

Quimperle facing  188 

Market  -  house,  Faouet      ....        facing  192 

Market  -  day 193 

Rosporden    ......•••  196 

Stone  Crucifix,  Concarneau    .         .         .        facing  198 

CONCARNEAU 199 

Pont  Aven facing  202 

Environs  of  Pont  Aven  (Map)           ....  204 

From    the  Museum  at  Quimper       ....  207 

Cape  de  la  Chevre facing  214 

Woman  of  Chateaulin 217 

Camaret facing  220 

Landerneau facing  224 

Calvary,  Plougastel          ....        facing  228 

Lighthouse  of  Creac'h,  Ouessant    .         .        facing  236 

Roscoff 239 

Ma  Douez 244 

Carved  Wood  Staircase,  Morlaix  .         .        facing  246 

Procession  of  Sailors,  St.  Jean  du  Doigt     .         .  247 


List  of  Illustrations  xiii 

PAGE 

Old  House,  Treguier         ......  253 

House  of  Ernest  Renan,  Treguier         .         .         .  254 

Shrine  of  St.  Yves,  Treguier 256 

A  Binou  Player 261 

Binic 267 

Ramparts  of  St.  Malo       ....        facing  272 

House  of  Duguay -Trouin,  St.  Malo       .         .         .  281 

Tower  of  Solidor,  St.  Servan           .         .        facing  284 

Plans  of  the  Tower  of  Solidor     ....  285 

The  Valley  of  the  Rance    (Map)  ....  292 

Duguesclin 293 

Rez  -de  -Chausse'e  of  Donjon,  Dinan  (Diagram)    .  295 

Coif  of  Miniac 307 

Mayenne facing  310 

Plan    of    the    Ancient    Walls    and    Towers  of 

Fougeres 314 

Beucheresse  Gate,  Laval 319 

Plan  of  Vitre  in  1811,  Showing  City  Walls       .  321 

Chateau  de   Vitre facing  322 

Tower  of  St.  Martin,  Vitre" 323 

Chateau  de  Rochers 325 

Arms  of  Madame  de  Sevigne 327 

Monastery  of  St.  Melaine,  Rennes        .         .         .  331 

Huelgoat facing  340 

Pardon  of  St.  Jean  du  Doigt  .         .         .        facing  352 

The  Provinces  of  France  (Map)      ....  359 

The  Ancient  Provinces  of  France  (Map)      .         .  361 

Comparative  Metric  Scale  (Diagram)    .         .         .  364 

Sketch  Map  of  Circular  Tour  in  Brittany  .  366 
Architectural  Names  of  the  Various  Parts  of 

a  Feudal  Chateau  (Diagram)  ....  367 
Tide   and  Weather    Signals    in    the    Ports    of 

Brittany  (Diagram) 368 


PART  I. 


RAMBLES  IN 
BRITTANY 


CHAPTER   I. 


INTRODUCTORY 


The  regard  which  every  one  has  for  the  old 
French  provinces  is  by  no  mean  inexplicable. 
Out  of  them  grew  the  present  solidarity  of 
republican  France,  but  in  spite  of  it  the  old 
limits  of  demarcation  arc  not  yet  expunged. 
One  and  all  retain  to-day  their  individual  char- 
acteristics, manners,  and  customs,  and  also  a 
certain  subconscious  atmosphere. 

Many  are  the  casual  travellers  who  know 
Normandy  and  Brittany,  at  least  know  them 
by  name  and  perhaps  something  more,  but 
how  many  of  those  who  annually  skim  across 
France,  in  summer  to  Switzerland  and  in  win- 
ter to  the  Riviera  or  to  Italy,  there  to  live  in 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


seven-franc-a-day  pensions,  and  drink  a  par- 
ticularly vile  brand  of  tea,  know  where  Brit- 
tany leaves  off  and  Normandy  begins,  or  have 
more  than  the  vaguest  of  vague  notions  as  to 
whether  the  charming  little  provincial  capital 
of  Nantes,  on  the  Loire,  is  in  Brittany  or  in 
Poitou.  A  recollection  of  their  school-day 
knowledge  of  history  will  help  them  on  the 
latter  point,  but  geography  will  come  in  and 
puzzle  them  still  more. 

There  are  many  French  writers,  and  paint- 
ers for  that  matter,  who  have  made  these  prov- 
inces famous.  Napoleon,  perhaps,  set  the  fash- 
ion, when  he  wrote,  in  1786,  that  eulogy  begin- 
ning: "It  is  now  six  or  seven  years  since  I 
left  my  native  country.' '  More  familiar  is  the 
' '  Native  Land  ' '  of  Lamartine.  Camille  Flam- 
marion  wrote  "  My  Cradle,"  meaning  Cham- 
pagne; Dumas  wrote  of  Villers-Cotterets,  and 
Chateaubriand  and  Benan  of  Brittany;  but 
head  and  shoulders  above  them  all  stand  out 
Frederic  Mistral  and  his  fellows  of  the  Felibres 
at  Avignon  and  Aries. 

All  this  offers  a  well-nigh  irresistible  fasci- 
nation for  those  who  love  literary  and  historic 
shrines,  —  and  who  does  not  in  these  days  of 
universal  travel,  personally  conducted  or  other- 
wise!   Not  every  one  can  follow  i&  the  foot- 


Introductory- 


steps  of  Sterne  with  equal  facility  and  grace, 
or  bask  in  the  radiance  of  a  Stevenson  or  a 
Gautier.  Still,  it  is  given  to  most  of  us  who 
know  the  lay  of  the  land  to  discover  for  our- 
selves the  position  of  these  celebrated  shrines, 
whether  the  pilgrimage  be  historical,  literary, 
or  artistic. 

This  is  what  gives  a  charm  to  travel,  and 
even  where  no  new  thing  is  actually  discovered, 
no  new  pathways  broken,  there  is,  after  all,  a 
certain  zest  in  such  an  exploration  rivalling 
that  to  be  obtained  from  an  expedition  to  the 
uttermost  confines  of  the  Dark  Continent,  to 
Tibet,  or  to  Tierra  del  Fuego. 

Primarily,  the  ancient  provinces  of  France 
have  a  story  of  historical  and  romantic  purport 
not  equalled  in  the  chronicles  of  any  other  na- 
tion. The  distinctive  types  are  but  vaguely 
limned,  but  the  Norman  and  the  Breton  stand 
out  most  distinctly,  and  such  figures  as  the 
Norman  and  Breton  dukes  of  real  history  live 
even  more  vividly  in  one's  mind  than  D'Ar- 
tagnan  and  his  fellows  in  the  great  portrait- 
gallery  of  Dumas. 

One  need  not  be  of  the  antiquary  species  in 
order  to  revel  in  the  great  monuments  of  his- 
tory abounding  in  Brittany  even  as  in  Nor- 
mandy.   There  are  many  and  beautiful  shrines 


6  Rambles  in  Brittany 

elsewhere,  —  and  doubtless  some  are  more  pop- 
ularly famous  than  any  in  Brittany,  —  but  none 
have  played  greater  or  more  important  roles 
in  the  history  and  development  of  the  France 
of  to-day  than  those  of  the  two  northwestern 
provinces. 

As  has  been  said,  each  of  the  great  provinces 
into  which  France  was  divided  previous  to  the 
Eevolution  possessed  characteristics,  unmistak- 
able even  to-day.  As  to  the  topography  of 
any  single  one,  the  question  is  so  vast  in  its 
detail  that  more  than  mention  of  principal  fea- 
tures can  hardly  be  made  in  a  book  such  as 
this.  It  is  then  perhaps  enough  that  some 
slight  information  concerning  Brittany  and  its 
principal  places  should  be  recorded  here,  and 
that  the  chief  configurations  of  its  territory 
should  be  outlined. 

In  addition  to  the  principal  old-time  govern- 
ments, there  were  the  ancient  fiefs  and  local 
divisions,  and  these  in  many  cases  had  names 
often  encountered  in  history  and  literature. 
Sometimes  these  were  relics  of  the  still  earlier 
day,  of  Gaul  before  the  Roman  conquest,  their 
ancient  names  having  come  down  through  the 
ages  with  but  little  change. 

If  one  would  understand  the  economic  or 
agricultural    aspect    of   France    of   to-day,   he 


Introductory 


must  known  these  principal  provinces  by  name 
at  least. 

When  one  is  at  Chartres,  he  must  be  aware 
that  he  is  on  the  edge  of  the  great  plateau  of 
Beauce,  —  the  granary  of  France,  —  and  that 
as  he  crosses  into  Brittany  —  perhaps  through 
Perche,  whence  come  the  great-footed  Perche- 
rons  —  he  enters  the  country  of  the  ancient 
Veneti.  Farther  west  lies  rock-bound  Cornou- 
aille,  which  in  every  characteristic  resembles 
Cornwall  in  Britain;  Leon  on  the  north,  and 
finally  Penthievre. 

The  traveller  remakes  his  history  where  he 
finds  it.  If  he  have  a  good  memory,  this  is 
not  a  difficult  process,  but,  in  any  case,  the 
French  guide-books,  that  is  to  say,  those  writ- 
ten in  French,  not  the  English  or  Anglo-Ger- 
man variety,  are  sufficiently  explicit  as  to  dates 
and  events  to  set  him  on  the  right  track. 

The  armchair  traveller  usually  desires  some- 
thing more.  He  likes  his  plain  stories  gar- 
nished with  a  not  too  elaborate  series  of  embel- 
lishment, both  as  to  text  and  illustration,  giv- 
ing him  some  tangible  reminder  of  things  as 
they  are  in  this  enlightened  twentieth  century, 
when  tram-cars  have  taken  the  place  of  the  dili- 
gence, and  the  electric  light  has  supplanted  the 
tallow  dip,  and  one  may  well  say  with  Sterne: 


8  Rambles  in  Brittany 

"  Since  France  is  so  near  to  England,  why  not 
go  to  France?  " 

Here,  in  spots  all  but  unknown  even  in  Nor- 
mandy and  Brittany,  the  traveller  finds  for 
himself  monuments  of  a  civilization  gone  be- 
fore and  of  a  local  history  not  yet  completely 
erased,  and  as  interesting  as  those  of  any  land 
made  famous  by  antiquaries  whose  only  claim 
to  fame  rests  upon  their  questionable  ability 
in  propounding  new  theories,  of  which  the  chief 
merit  is  plausibility,  —  a  process  of  history- 
making  sadly  overdone  of  late  in  some  parts. 

Both  in  Brittany  and  in  Normandy  there  are 
innumerable  glorious  architectural  monuments 
of  a  past  from  which  history  may  be  builded 
anew.  Character  counts  for  a  great  deal  with 
cities  as  with  individuals.  One  can  love  Rouen 
as  the  capital  of  the  ancient  Normandy,  or 
Nantes  as  the  capital  of  Lower  Brittany,  but 
he  will  no  more  have  the  same  sort  of  affection 
for  Lyons  or  for  Nice  than  he  will  have  it  for 
Manchester  or  for  Chicago. 

In  the  days  of  old,  when  each  little  town  had 
its  dignitaries,  who  may  have  been  counts  or 
who  may  have  been  bishops,  there  was  perhaps 
more  individuality  than  in  the  present  age  of 
monotonous  prefects  and  mayors.  Nantes  had 
its  dukes,  and  Rouen  had  its  prelates,  and  both 


Introductory 


of  them,  even  to-day,  overshadow  the  civic  dig- 
nitaries of  their  time ;  hence  it  is  the  memory 
of  the  parts  played  by  them  which  induces  an 
association  of  ideas  prompting  a  desire  to  know 
personally  the  ground  trodden  by  them. 

Normandy  and  Brittany  are  supposed  to  be 
the  happy  hunting-grounds  of  cheap  tourists 
and  trippers,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
former  do  not  go  beyond  Dieppe,  or  the  latter 
beyond  the  Channel  Islands,  —  with  possibly  a 
day  excursion  to  St.  Malo,  —  so  no  discomfort 
need  really  arise  from  the  fear  of  their  pres- 
ence. Furthermore,  the  tourists  from  across 
Channel  that  one  does  meet  in  Normandy  or 
Brittany  to-day  are  not  so  outrageous  in  their 
dress  and  manners  as  the  type  pictured  by 
Punch. 

It  is  a  generally  recognized  fact  that  no  spe- 
cial hardship  is  involved  in  modern  travel; 
caravansaries  have  for  the  most  part  given 
way  to  inns  which,  if  not  exactly  palatial,  at 
least  furnish  creature  comforts  of  a  quality 
quite  as  good  or  a  great  deal  better  than  those 
to  which  most  travellers  are  accustomed  at 
home.  One  may,  and  most  likely  will,  miss 
his  or  her  particular  brand  of  tea  or  tobacco, 
but  will  find  substitutes  quite  as  excellent,  and 
as  far  as  the  language  question  is  concerned, 


10 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


why,  that  lies  at  one's  own  door,  unless  one 
wants  to  go  out  as  a  disciple  of  Esperanto,  the 
modern  successor  of  Volapuk,  dead  years  ago 
of  sheer  weight  of  consonants. 

This  book,  then,  is  meant  to  ensure  better 
knowledge  on  the  part  of  the  casual  traveller 
of  that  delectable  land  which  may  be  somewhat 
vaguely  described  as  old  France,  of  which  Brit- 
tany and  Normandy  are  as  representative  in 
their  survivals  as  any  other  part. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   PROVINCE   AND   THE   PEOPLE 

Brittany,  the  ancient  province  which  under- 
went snch  a  strife  of  warfare  and  bloodshed  in 
the  struggle  against  invaders,  and  finally 
against  France,  has  become  one  of  the  most 
loyal  of  all  the  old-time  divisions  making  up  the 
present  republic.  Her  struggle  against  a  cur- 
tailment of  her  ancient  rights  and  the  attempts 
to  conserve  her  liberties  were  futile,  and  when 
the  Duchess  Anne  took  Louis  XII.  for  her  sec- 
ond husband,  Brittany  became  a  part  of  the 
royal  domain  never  to  be  separated  therefrom. 

It  was  Duguesclin  who  saved  it  for  France, 
"Duchess  Anne  who  enriched  it,  Chateaubriand, 
Lamennais,  Laennec,  and  Renan  who  made  it 
illustrious  in  letters,  and  Duguay  Trouin, 
Jacques  Cartier,  Surcouf,  Du  Oouedic,  and 
many  besides  who  added  to  all  this  the  spirit 
of  adventure  and  romance  with  which  the 
chronicles  of  Brittany  have  ever  abounded. 

Commonly  it  has  been  called  a  land  of  gran- 
ite, an  expression  which  has  been  consecrated 

11 


12  Rambles  in  Brittany 

by  the  usage  of  many  years,  but  it  is  also  a 
land  most  picturesque,  melancholy,  and  dreamy, 
with  immense  horizons  of  sea  and  sky,  and  a 
climate  strictly  temperate  throughout  all  the 
year. 

"  O  landes,  O  forets,  pierres  sombres  et  hautes, 
Bois  qui  couvrez  nos  champs,  mers  qui  battez  nos  cotes, 
Villages  oil  les  morts  errent  avec  les  ventes, 
Bretagne  !  d'oii  te  vient  l'amour  de  tes  enfants." 

Brittany  in  early  days  had  a  parliament  the 
most  important  in  France.  Armorica  was  its 
more  ancient  name,  which  in  old  Breton  sig- 
nified "  near  to  the  sea,"  or  "  on  the  sea." 

From  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  for 
a  matter  of  perhaps  a  hundred  years,  the  pen- 
insula was  known  as  Armorique,  and  its  peo- 
ple as  Armoricans.  After  this  time  the  name 
disappeared  from  general  use,  and  Brittany 
and  Breton  came.  From  the  sixth  century 
onward  the  change  became  permanent,  and  such 
chroniclers  as  Gregory  of  Tours,  for  instance, 
always  referred  to  Britannia,  Britannioe,  Bri- 
tanni,  and  Britones,  in  writing  of  the  peninsula 
and  its  people. 

When  first  peopled  from  Britain  across  the 
Channel,  Brittany  was  the  most  thinly  popu- 
lated part  of  all  Gaul.  Each  wave  of  immigra- 
tion, as  the  Britons  from  across  the  water  fled 


The  Province  and  the  People        13 

from  the  invading  Saxons,  added  to  the  popu- 
lation of  the  land,  until  ultimately  it  became  as 
a  hundred  Britons  against  ten  Armoricans. 
At  least,  this  is  the  way  the  French  historians 
and  antiquaries  put  it,  and  so  Armorique  be- 
came Brittany,  and  such  is  the  origin  of  French 
Brittany,  quite  independent  of  the  etymology 
of  the  word  Breton  itself. 

The  inhabitants  even  to-day  —  more  than  in 
any  other  of  the  ancient  provinces  of  France 
—  have  preserved  the  ancient  nomenclature  of 
the  land  and  its  people,  and  everywhere  one 
finds  only  Bretons  whose  home  is  Brittany. 

Mercator,  the  map-maker,  was  more  of  a  suc- 
cess than  Mercator,  the  historical  chronicler. 
He  said  of  the  Bretons,  in  1595,  that  they  were 
"  for  the  most  part  avaricious  and  largely 
given  to  making  distinctions  between  glasses 
and  tumblers.' '  As  a  matter  of  record,  this  is 
not  so  true  of  the  Bretons  as  it  is  of  the  Nor- 
mans, or  of  the  Germans,  or  of  the  Spaniards. 
Up  to  the  time  of  Caesar  the  name  Armorica 
seems  to  have  been  applied  to  all  the  coast  of 
Northwestern  France  of  to-day,  with  a  little 
strip  running  as  far  south  as  the  mouth  of  the 
Garonne,  but  more  particularly  it  afterward 
designated  the  peninsula  of  Brittany  as  we 
know  it  to-day. 


14  Rambles  in  Brittany 

The  region  was  early  put  under  the  guar- 
dianship of  a  chieftain,  who  invariably,  here 
as  elsewhere  in  those  days,  took  advantage  of 
every  opportunity  to  advance  his  frontiers. 

This  attempted  aggrandizement  was  not  so 
successful  here  as  in  other  parts,  and  by  the 
fifth  century  Armorica  had  shrunk  to  the 
region  lying  entirely  between  the  Seine  and  the 
Loire.  In  the  life  of  St.  Germain  of  Auxerre 
one  reads : 

"  Gens  inter  geminos  notissima  clauditur  amnes 
Armoricana  prius  veteri  cognomine  dicta  est." 

Finally,  at  the  close  of  the  sixth  century,  Ar- 
morica merged  itself  in  Brittany,  but  the  "  Con- 
cile  de  Tours  "  makes  a  remarkable  distinction 
between  the  new  settlers  and  those  who  had 
previously  been  known  as  Romans.  This  dis- 
tinction was  also  clearly  made  by  St.  Samson, 
who  wrote  in  the  seventh  century  that  Britannia 
was  the  name  given  to  Armorica  by  the  exiled 
Britons  who  had  fled  from  the  Saxons  and  the 
Angles  and  had  there  taken  up  their  home. 

Before  the  Roman  conquest  there  were  live 
tribes  in  the  country,  named  by  Caesar  as  the 
Nannetes,  the  Veneti,  the  Osismii,  the  Curio- 
solitae,  and  the  Rhedones,  —  names  which,  with 
but  slight  evolution,  exist  even  to-day.  Things 
went  on  quietly  under  Roman  control,  but  when 


The  Province  and  the  People        15 

Clovis  became  the  master  of  a  part  of  Gaul 
he  was  obliged  to  treat  with  the  Armoricans. 
Finally  the  Britons  from  across  the  sea  came 
"  like  a  torrent,"  and  established  themselves, 
changing  the  names  of  certain  regions  to  Cor- 
nouaille,  Leon,  Bro-Waroch,  etc.  Conquered  in 
799  by  a  lieutenant  of  Charlemagne,  the  Bre- 
tons revolted  again  some  little  time  after,  and, 
at  the  death  of  the  great  emperor,  successfully 
withstood  the  attacks  of  the  formidable  army 
which  Louis  the  Amiable  had  sent  against  them. 
For  a  quarter  of  a  century  Brittany  now  suf- 
fered attack  and  pillage  by  the  Normans,  re- 
lieved only  when  Alain  Barbe-Torte  drove  the 
invaders  from  his  territory.  Previous  to  the 
Norman  inroad,  the  Bretons  lived  in  petty 
tribes,  of  which  each  formed  a  "  plou,"  a  pre- 
fix still  often  met  with  in  Breton  place-names. 
The  chief  of  a  plou  was  known  as  a  machtiem. 

Up  to  this  time  no  foreign  customs  had  been 
introduced,  but,  after  the  victories  of  Alain 
Barbe-Torte,  tribal  organization  was  succeeded 
by  that  of  the  fief. 

By  the  tenth  century  feudalism  was  thor- 
oughly established  throughout  most  of  the  an- 
cient provinces  of  France,  and  the  land  was 
covered  with  seigniories,  great  and  small,  the 
one  more  or  less   dependent  upon  the  other. 


16  Rambles  in  Brittany 

Dukes,  counts,  and  seigneurs,  each  in  his  own 
territory,  played  the  hereditary  sovereign  in 
little,  and  above  them  was  the  suzerain  power 
of  which  they  were  vassals. 

After  the  expulsion  of  the  Normans,  the  an- 
cient Breton  kingdoms  of  Domnonee,  Cornou- 
aille,  and  Bro-Waroch  disappeared,  and  the 
sovereign  of  all  Brittany  bore  the  title  of 
duke. 

Historians  write  of  the  nine  ancient  barons 
of  Brittany,  among  whom  was  divided  the  gov- 
ernmental control  of  the  country,  all  of  them 
being  virtually  subject  to  the  reigning  duke. 
They  were: 

I.  Seigneur  d'Avaugour  or  De  Goello. 

II.  Vicomte  de  Leon. 

III.  Seigneur  de  Fougeres. 

IV.  Sire  de  Vitre. 

V.  Sire  de  Eohan. 

VI.  Seigneur  de  Chateaubriand. 

VII.  Seigneur  de  Betz. 

VIII.  Seigneur  de  la  Boche-Bernard. 

IX.  Seigneur  du  Pont. 

These  original  baronies  expanded  into  a 
round  hundred  by  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
the  list  of  them  contains  the  ancestral  names 
of  the  Breton  nobility. 

Henry  II.   of  England  dealt  severely  with 


The  Province  and  the  People        17 

Brittany,  but  his  son  Geoffrey  married  Con- 
stance, the  daughter  of  Duke  Conan  IV.,  and 
this  made  the  condition  of  the  province  more 
tolerable. 

The  first  step  toward  the  union  of  Brittany 
with  the  kingdom  of  France  came  when  — 
through  the  intrigues  of  Philip  Augustus  —  the 
daughter  of  Geoffrey  Plantagenet  married 
Pierre  Mauclerc,  Count  of  Dreux,  and  a  prince 


Device  of  Annr  of  Brittany 

of  the  blood  royal  of  France.  Joan  of  Pen- 
thievre  also  married  the  Count  of  Blois,  an- 
other lieutenant  of  the  King  of  France. 

The  war  of  succession  in  Brittany  between 
the  ducal  houses  of  Blois  and  Montfort  was,  up 
to  the  fourteenth  century,  the  principal  event 
of  the  province's  early  history.  The  Montforts 
achieved  final  victory  at  Auray  in  1364.  Upon 
the  death  of  Francis  II.,  his  daughter  Anne, 
the  chief  figure  in  all  Breton  history,  so  far  as 


18 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


existing  memorials  of  her  life  are  concerned, 
became  duchess. 

In  1491,  she  married  Charles  VIII.  of  France, 
and  eight  years  later  his  successor,  Louis  XII. 
The  daughter  of  this  last  marriage,  the  Prin- 

cess  Claude  of 
France,  married  the 
Duke  of  Angouleme, 
afterward  Francis  the 
First,  and  the  for- 
tunes of  Brittany  and 
France  were  thence- 
forth indissolubly  al- 
lied, for,  upon  becom- 
ing Queen  Claude  of 
France,  the  inheritor 
of  Brittany  ceded  the 
province  to  her  royal 
spouse  and  his  de- 
scendants in  perpetu- 
ity. Queen  Claude  died  in  1524,  which  event 
for  ever  assured  France  of  this  province,  —  the 
most  beautiful  gem  in  the  royal  crown.  The 
union  of  Brittany  and  France  was  celebrated 
with  much  pomp  in  1532. 

The  ancient  county  or  duchy  of  Bretagne 
was  bordered  on  the  east  by  Anjou  and  Maine, 
on  the  west  by  the  Atlantic,  on  the  north  by 


Anne  of  Brittany 


The  Province  and  the  People        19 

the  British  Channel  and  Normandy,  and  on  the 
south  by  Poitou.  The  province  had  two  terri- 
torial divisions,  Upper  and  Lower,  and  Rennes 
was  the  parliamentary  capital. 

Upper  Brittany  comprised  the  five  episcopal 
dioceses  of  Dol,  Nantes,  Rennes,  Saint-Brieuc, 
and  St.  Malo,  and  Lower  Brittany  counted  four 
similar  divisions,  Quimper,  St.  Pol  de  Leon, 
Treguier,  and  Vannes.  Thus  the  political  di- 
visions of  a  former  day  corresponded  exactly 
with  those  of  the  Church. 

To-day  Brittany  is  divided  into  five  depart- 
ments: Cotes  du  Nord,  Finistere,  Ille-et- Vi- 
la ine,  Loire-Inferieure,  and  the  Morbihan. 

The  administrative  government  of  Brittany, 
or  rather  of  its  present-day  departments,  like 
that  of  the  rest  of  France,  radiates  from  the 
capital  of  the  department,  which  is  the  resi- 
dence of  the  prefect,  the  tax-collector,  the 
bishop,  and,  in  general,  of  all  heads  of  depart- 
ments. The  chief  town  is  also  the  seat  of  the 
General  Council  and  (with  few  exceptions)  of 
the  assize  court. 

The  most  ancient  codified  law  of  Brittany 
was  known  as  the  little  book,  but  the  manu- 
script copy  has  been  lost.  The  most  ancient 
work  which  recites  the  "  customs  "  of  this 
great  province  dates  only  from  1 3?>0.    This  curi- 


20  Rambles  in  Brittany 

ous  document  is  known  as  the  "  Very  Ancient 
Law,"  and  contains  336  articles.  "  The  An- 
cient Law  "  was  compiled  and  published  at 
Nantes  in  1549,  and  contains  779  articles. 

Brittany  has  been,  and  perhaps  ever  will  be, 
considered  by  Frenchmen  an  alien  land,  where, 
in  its  great  plains  and  mountainous  regions, 
in  the  valleys  of  its  bubbling  rivers,  and  on 
its  rock-bound  shores,  the  people,  one  and  all, 
"  speak  a  tongue  so  ancient  and  so  strange 
that  he  who  hears  it  dreams  of  a  vanished 
race." 

Yes,  Brittany  is  a  land  of  menhirs,  of  leg- 
ends and  superstitions,  but  all  this  but  makes 
a  roundabout  journey  the  more  enjoyable,  and 
one  must  really  cross  and  recross  it  to  its  utter- 
most confines  in  order  to  realize  its  great  vari- 
ation of  manners  and  customs,  to  say  nothing 
of  speech,  for,  even  though  the  Breton  tongue 
is  dying  out  as  a  universal  language,  one  still 
buys  his  post-card  with  a  queer  legend  on  its 
face,  which  looks  like  Dutch  at  first  glance,  but 
really  is  Breton. 

In  Madame  de  Sevigne's  time  the  ladies  of 
Lower  Brittany  were  famous  for  their  beauty. 
In  "  Letter  XLIV.,"  written  to  her  daughter, 
Madame  de  Sevigne  said:  "  Many  beauties  of 
Lower  Brittany  were  present  at  the  great  ball, 


The  Province  and  the  People        21 

the  brilliant  Mademoiselle  de  L ,  a  fine  girl 

who  dances  very  well." 

Things  do  not  seem  to  have  changed  greatly 
to-day,  and,  although  Madame  de  Sevigne  wrote 
of  court  beauties  only,  in  the  Lower  Province 
one  frequently  meets  such  beauty  of  face  as 
one  does  not  see  everywhere  in  France.  It 
must  be  owned  that  the  figures,  if  not  exactly 


Unvaniez    Post    ar    Bed  Holl 

KARTEN-BOST 

5Jn  to-  niCL  a  jo  rruret  and  £uv  4uircss 


s*L 


Breton     Post-card 

found  wanting,  are  often  too  ample.  The 
sternness  of  the  land,  like  the  bleakness  of 
Holland,  has,  apparently,  added  no  end  of 
grace  to  the  features  of  the  women,  whatever 
may  have  been  its  hardening  effect  upon  the 
men. 

In  Cornouaille,  Latin  Comu-GallicB,  one  finds 
almost    the    same    name    and   the    same    deri- 


22  Rambles  in  Brittany 

vation  as  in  English  Cornwall,  and  the  topo- 
graphical aspect  is  much  the  same  in  both  in- 
stances. "  The  people  of  Cornuaille  are 
faithful  to  tradition,  and  above  all  others  merit 
the  name  of  Bretons/'  says  J.  Guillon. 

The  Province  of  Leon  forms  the  northern 
part  of  the  Department  of  Finistere.  The  name 
was  a  development  from  Pagus  Legionensis,  a 
large  military  colony  having  been  quartered 
there  in  Roman  times. 

In  the  south  the  ancient  Breton  Province  of 
Bro-Waroch  became  the  county  of  Vannes,  the 
counts  being  in  reality  dependents  of  the  Duke 
of  Brittany;  their  people  spoke,  and  retain 
even  to-day,  a  distinct  dialect,  greatly  varying 
from  that  of  the  rest  of  Brittany. 

In  the  earliest  times,  both  Nantes  and 
Rennes  were  the  seat  of  important  adminis- 
trative governments,  but  the  Counts  of  Nantes 
ceded  their  fiefs  to  the  Bretons  in  the  eleventh 
century.  Chief  of  these  were  the  fiefs  of  the 
Baron  of  Retz,  the  Seigneur  de  Clisson,  who 
defended  the  southern  frontier  against  Poitou, 
and  the  Baron  of  Ancenis,  who  was  the  bul- 
wark between  Brittany  and  Anjou. 

In  the  north,  the  ancient  Breton  kingdom  of 
Domnonee  was,  in  the  twelfth  century,  divided 


The  Province  and  the  People        23 

into  two  counties,  that  of  Penthievre  and  Tre- 
guier. 

It  was  Duke  Geoffrey  who  introduced  feudal- 
ism of  the  Anglo-Norman  and  French  variety. 
In  earlier  times,  when  a  nobleman  died,  his 
children  divided  his  lands  and  goods  in  equal 
parts  among  them,  but  in  Normandy  and 
France  the  estate  went  to  the  eldest  of  the  line. 

It  was  only  in  the  twelfth  century  that  the 
Bretons  went  outside  their  own  domain.  Pre- 
viously, they  were  decidedly  an  untravelled 
race,  but  under  Philip  the  Fair  Paris  came 
to  know  Breton  well,  though  chiefly  through 
the  poorer  classes. 

They  went  to  the  schools  and  seminaries  of 
Orleans  to  become  clerics;  sold  their  cattle 
and  horses  in  the  markets  of  Paris,  and  their 
wheat  in  Maine  and  Anjou,  and  their  feudal 
lords,  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  say,  bought 
their  dress  in  the  capital  of  fashion,  and  their 
wines  in  Gascony.  From  this  time,  Brittany 
may  be  said  to  have  been  opened  to  the  world. 

Not  always  were  the  Bretons  a  peaceful, 
law-abiding  race,  at  least  they  did  not  always 
appear  in  such  a  light  to  their  contemporaries. 
According  to  Bouchart,  Duke  Francis  II.  re- 
ceived a  letter  wherein  his  brother-in-law,  the 
Count  of  Foix,  said:   "  Monseigneur,  I  declare 


24  Rambles  in  Brittany 

to  God,  I  would  rather  be  the  ruler  of  a  million 
of  wild  boars  than  of  such  a  people  as  are  your 
Bretons.' ' 

In  1460,  Francis  II.  founded  the  University 
of  Nantes,  thus  doing  away  with  the  necessity 
of  the  young  Breton's  going  to  Paris,  Orleans, 
or  Angers  for  his  education. 

Printing  was  discovered  in  Germany,  and  all 
in  good  time  it  appeared  in  Brittany,  at  Lan- 
nion,  and  at  Treguier.  There  were  establish- 
ments devoted  to  the  art  even  before  they  ex- 
isted in  such  important  places  as  Lyons  or 
Montpellier.  One  of  the  first  books  printed  in 
Brittany  was  a  French-Breton  dictionary,  pub- 
lished in  1499,  and  known  as  the  Catholicon  of 
Jean  Lagadeuc. 

By  this  time,  a  remarkable  form  of  govern- 
ment, unique  in  all  the  world,  was  established 
in  Brittany.  In  some  respects  it  was  modelled 
on  the  English  Parliament,  but  in  no  way  re- 
sembled that  of  the  French  legislative  body. 

The  Estates  met  each  year  at  Eennes,  at 
Vannes,  at  Nantes,  at  Eedon,  at  Vitre,  or  at 
Dinan,  and  at  last,  under  Francis  II.,  Parlia- 
ment came  to  be  a  fixture  at  Rennes. 

Even  after  the  union  of  Brittany  with  France, 
the  ancient  rights,  privileges,  and  liberties  were 
assured  to  the  old  province  until  the  Revolu- 


The  Province  and  the  People        25 


tion.  These  sittings  of  the  Estates  at  Bennes 
were  sumptuous  affairs,  accompanied  by  a 
round  of  feasting  and  dancing  at  which  ap- 
peared all  the  aristocracy  who  could. 

Madame  de  Sevigne  wrote  to  her  daughter 
of  one  of  the  grand  affairs  as  follows: 

"  The  good  cheer  is  excessive;  the  roasts 
are  brought  on  entire,  and  the  pyramids  of 
fruit  are  so  huge  as  to  make  it  necessary  to 
take  down  the  doors  for  their  entrance.  .  .  . 
After  dinner,  MM.  de  Locmaria  and  Coetlegon 
danced  with  two  Breton  girls,  taking  some 
amazing  steps.  .  .  .  Play  is  continuous,  balls 
endless,  and  thrice  a  week  there  are  come- 
dies." 

The  relations  between  the  nobility  and  peas- 
antry in  seventeenth-century  Brittany  were 
perhaps  closer  and  more  affectionate  than  in 
any  other  part  of  France.  The  noblemen  fre- 
quently visited  the  peasants  on  their  farms, 
and  on  Sunday  the  peasants  danced  in  the 
courts  of  the  castles  and  manor-houses. 

"  Virtually,  under  the  old  system,  Brittany 
was  peopled  by  rural  nobility,"  says  Cambry, 
and  indeed  this  must  have  been  so,  for  within 
a  small  radius  of  Plougasnou  were  more  than 
two  hundred  noblemen's  houses,  "  so  poor," 
says   the   chronicler,   "  that   their   inhabitants 


26  Rambles  in  Brittany 

might  well  be  classed  with  the  labourers  them- 
selves." 

Brittany's  part  in  the  Bevolution  was  equiv- 
ocal. The  Republicans  really  had  beaten  the 
Royalists,  but  they  had  also  aided  the  Giron- 
dins,  and  at  Paris  the  Girondins  were  as  much 
hated  as  the  Royalists  themselves.  The  Con- 
vention sent  its  representatives  into  the  prov- 
ince, not  to  thank  the  Bretons  for  their  help 
in  the  great  struggle,  but  with  the  idea  of  still 
further  arousing  the  passions  of  the  people. 

Among  these  representatives  were  Geurmer, 
Prieur  de  la  Marne,  Jean-Bon-St.-Andre,  and 
the  rascally  and  heartless  Carrier,  who  drowned 
his  hundreds  at  Nantes,  and  guillotined  twenty- 
six  Bretons  in  one  day  at  Brest. 

The  Breton  feeling  and  sympathy  was  in  the 
main  with  the  Republicans,  though  manifestly 
the  majority  had  no  sympathy  with  the  rule 
of  the  Terrorists.  It  is  curious  to  note,  how- 
ever, the  change  in  the  nomenclature  of  places 
in  the  endeavour  to  eliminate  the  religious  and 
aristocratic  prefixes  and  suffixes  with  which 
many  of  the  Breton  place-names  were  endowed. 

St.  Cast  became  Havre-Cast. 

St.  Fiacre  became  Fiacre-les-Bois. 

St.  Gildas  became  Gildas  du  Chaneau. 

St.  Gilles-les-Bois  became  Bellevue. 


The  Province  and  the  People        27 

St.  Jacut-de-la-Mer  became  Isle  Jacut  and 
Port  Jacut. 

Chateaulin  became  Cite  sur  Aon. 

Pont  l'Abbe  became  Pont  Marat. 

Quimper  became  Montagne  sur  Odet. 

St.  Martin  des  Champs  became  Unite  des 
Champs. 

St.  Pol  de  Leon  became  Port  Pol. 

Belle  He  en  Mer  became  He  de  1 'Unite. 

Chateau  Fouquet  became  Maison-des-Sans- 
Culottes. 

Isle  aux  Moins  became  Isle  du  Morbihan. 

Roche-Bernard  became  La  Roche  Sauveur. 

Rochefort  en  Terre  became  Roche  des  Trois. 

St.  Gildas  de  Rhuis  became  Abelard. 

St.  Briac  became  Port  Briac. 

St.  Lunaire  became  Port  Lunaire. 

St.  Malo  became  Port  Malo. 

St.  Servan  became  Port  Solidor. 

With  the  incoming  of  the  Empire,  most  of 
these  names  reverted  to  their  early  form. 

In  our  day,  while  many  of  the  old  provinces 
of  France  have  suffered  —  if  they  really  do 
' '  suffer  ' '  —  from  a  decreasing  population, 
Brittany  has  augmented  her  numbers  contin- 
ually. It  is  a  well-worn  saying  among  the  polit- 
ical economists  of  France  that  the  "  fine  and 
healthv  race  of  Bretons  is  one  of  the  greatest 


28 Rambles  in  Brittany 


reserves  and  hopes  of  the  republic."  Three- 
quarters  of  all  those  who  man  French  ships 
come  from  the  Breton  peninsula. 

Hamerton  has  said  that  no  race,  more  than 
the  English,  had  so  strong  a  tendency  to  form 
attachments  for  places  outside  their  native 
land.  There  may  be  many  reasons  for  this, 
and  assuredly  the  subject  is  too  vast  and  varied 
to  be  more  than  hinted  at  here.  Brittany,  at 
any  rate,  has  proved,  in  and  out  of  season,  a 
haven,  as  safe  as  a  home-port,  for  the  Briton 
and  his  family,  when  they  would  not  wander  too 
far.  Possibly  it  comes  after  Switzerland,  though 
France  as  a  whole,  "  the  most  architectural 
country  in  Europe,"  has  been  sadly  neglected, 
for,  as  has  been  said  before,  no  Englishman 
ever  loved  France  as  Browning  loved  Italy. 

The  native  love  of  the  Frenchman  for  the 
land  of  his  birth  is,  to  him,  above  all  else.  It 
is  almost  incomprehensible  to  an  outsider;  it 
is  something  more  than  mere  patriotism;  it  is 
the  love  of  an  artist  for  his  picture,  as  Balzac 
said  of  his  love  of  Touraine.  This  sentiment 
goes  deep.  After  the  province  comes  the  im- 
mediate environment  of  his  village,  and  then 
the  village.  "  Rien  n'est  plus  beau  que  mon 
village,  en  verite  je  vous  le  dis."  Thus  has 
written  and  spoken  many  a  great  Frenchman. 


The  Province  and  the  People        29 


Nowhere  in  the  known  world  is  provincial- 
ism so  deep  and  profound  a  trait  as  in  France; 
and  the  Breton  is  always  a  Breton,  contemptu- 
ous of  the  Norman,  God-fearing,  and  peaceful 
toward  all.  There  is  throughout  France  always 
an  intense  provincial  rivalry,  though  it  seldom 
rises  to  hatred  or  even  to  jealousy. 

Probably  there  is  no  great  amount  of  truth 
in  the  following  quatrain,  evidently  composed 
by  a  resident  of  Finistere,  and  there  first  heard 
by  the  writer  of  this  book,  but  it  reflects  those 
little  rivalries  and  ambitions  which  have  ap- 
peared in  the  daily  life-struggle  among  the  in- 
habitants of  other  nations  since  the  world 
began : 

"  Voleur  comme  im  Leonard, 
Traitre  comme  un  Tr£garrais, 
Sot  comme  un  Vannetais, 
Brutal  comme  un  Cornouaillais." 

Sometimes  the  love  of  one's  own  country 
may  be  carried  to  an  extreme.  We  read  that 
for  long  years,  and  until  recently,  the  inhab- 
itants of  Trelaze  positively  refused  to  assimi- 
late with  outside  conditions  of  life  to  the  least 
degree,  and  finding  a  Breton  of  this  little  zone 
or  islet  who  spoke  French  was  as  improbable 
as  to  find  one  who  spoke  English.  At  St.  Brieuc 
there  is  a  special  quarter  where  the  Breton- 


30  Rambles  in  Brittany 

speaking  folk  live  to  the  number  of  two  thou- 
sand, and  this  out  of  a  population  of  only 
twenty-two  thousand,  while  at  Nantes  the  Bre- 
tons number  ten  thousand.  At  Angers  there  is 
a  large  and  apparently  growing  Breton  colony ; 
likewise  at  Havre,  in  Normandy,  where  they 
have  a  special  chapel  in  which  the  priest 
preaches  in  the  Breton  tongue.  At  Paris,  too, 
there  are  various  Breton  colonies,  and  the 
Church  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  Louis,  in  St.  An- 
thony's Street,  has  a  Breton  priest.  It  is  the 
same  with  the  church  of  Vaugirard.  At  Havre 
there  are  something  over  three  thousand  Bre- 
ton-speaking persons,  and  in  Paris  seven  thou- 
sand. 

Perhaps  Brittany  has  produced  fewer  great 
painters  and  sculptors  than  any  other  section 
of  France,  but  all  Bretons  are  artists  in  no  very 
small  way,  as  witness  their  wonderfully  pic- 
turesque dress  and  their  charmingly  stage- 
managed  fetes  and  ceremonies. 

The  pioneer  painter  of  Breton  subjects  was 
doubtless  Adolph  Leleux,  who,  as  one  of  the 
romantic  school  in  Paris,  found  in  this  province 
what  many  another  of  his  contemporaries  was 
seeking  for  elsewhere,  and  discovered  Brittany, 
as  far  as  making  it  a  popular  artists '  sketching- 
ground  is   concerned.     His  first  paintings   of 


67.  Brieuc 


The  Province  and  the  People        31 

this  region  were  exhibited  in  the  Salons  of 
1838  -  39  -  40,  and  Paris  raved  over  them.  His 
peasant  folk,  with  their  embroidered  waist- 
coats and  broad-brimmed  hats,  had  the  very 
atmosphere  of  Brittany. 

Leleux's  success  was  the  signal  for  a  throng 
of  artists  to  follow  in  his  footsteps,  and  to-day 
their  number  is  countless,  and  the  very  names 
of  even  the  most  famous  would  form  too  long 
a  list  to  catalogue  here. 

Among  Leleux's  most  celebrated  canvases 
were  ' '  La  Karolle,  Danse  Bretonne, ' '  1843 ; 
"  Les  Faneuses,"  1846;  "  Le  Ketour  du 
Marche,"  1847;  "  Cour  de  Cabaret,"  1857; 
"  Jour  de  Fete  en  Basse  Bretagne,"  1865;  and 
successively  the  ' '  Foire  Bretonne, "  "  Les  Bra- 
conniers,"  "  Le  Pecheur  de  Homards,"  "  Pe- 
lerinage  Breton,' '  and  "  Le  Cri  du  Chouan." 

In  all  these  works  one  finds  the  true  Brittany 
of  Rosporjien  and  Penmarc'h. 

Fortin's  "  Canute  de  Mendicant  dans  le  Fi- 
nistere  "  (1857),  "  La  Benedicite, ' J  and  "  La 
Chaumiere  du  Morbihan  M  follow  Leleux  as  a 
good  second,  then  Trayers  with  "  Marche  Bre- 
ton "  and  "  Marchande  de  Crepes  a  Quim- 
perle." 

Among  other  noted  pictures  are  Darjours's 
"  Palaudiers    du    Bourg   de    Batz  "    and    the 


32  Rambles  in  Brittany 


"  Fagotiers  Bretons  ";  Guerard's  "  Jour  de 
Fete  "  and  "  Messe  du  Matin,  Ille-et-Vilaine  "; 
Fischer's  "  Chemin  du  Pardon  "  and  "  Au- 
berge  a  Scaer,"  and  Roussin's  "  Famille  Bre- 
tonne. ' ' 

Gustave  Brion,  with  his  "  Bretons  a  la  Porte 
d'une  Eglise  ";  Yan  Dargent,  with  his  "  Sauve- 
tage  a  Guisseny,"  and  Jules  Noel,  with  his 
1 '  Danse  Bretonne, ' '  and  various  landscapes  of 
Brest,  Quimper,  Auray,  and  Douarnenez,  are 
on  the  list  of  names  of  those  who  made  the 
Breton  region  famous  in  the  mid-nineteenth 
century. 

Since  then,  the  followers  in  their  footsteps 
have  been  almost  too  many  to  number. 

Most  folk  call  to  mind  with  very  slight  appre- 
ciable effort  such  masterpieces  as  Jules  Bre- 
ton's "  Retraite  aux  Flambeaux  "  and  "  Plan- 
tation d'un  Calvaire,"  now  in  the  museum  at 
Lille,  and  Charles  Cottet's  "  Bateaux  de 
Peche  a  Camaret  "  in  the  Luxembourg  gallery. 

In  addition,  there  have  been  innumerable 
"  great  pictures  "  painted  by  English  and 
American  artists  whose  very  names  form  too 
long  a  list  to  catalogue  here. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   TOPOGRAPHY   OF   THE   PROVINCE 

One  reason  for  the  diversified  interests  of 
France  and  the  varying  methods  of  life  is 
the  vastly  diversified  topographical  features. 
"  Great  plains  as  large  as  three  Irelands,"  said 
Hamerton,  "  and  yet  mountainous  districts 
quite  as  large  as  the  whole  of  the  British  Isles.' ' 
This  should  have  served  to  disabuse  British 
travellers  of  some  false  notions  regarding 
France,  but  many  of  them  still  hold  to  the  views 
which  are  to  be  gained  by  railway  journeys 
across  the  lowlands  of  Gaul,  forgetting  for  a 
moment  that  well  within  the  confines  of  France 
there  are  fifty  mountain  peaks  above  eleven 
thousand  feet  high,  and  that  majestic  Mont 
Blanc  itself  rises  on  French  soil. 

Then  there  are  the  two  thousand  miles  of 
seacoast  which  introduce  another  element  of 
the  population,  from  the  dark-skinned  sailor 
of  the  Mediterranean  to  his  brother  of  Finis- 
tere,  who  is  brought  into  the  world  chiefly  to 

33 


34 Rambles  in  Brittany 


recruit  the  French  navy.  The  Norman  sailor- 
man  is  a  hardy,  intrepid  navigator  even  to-day, 
but  he  is  to  a  great  extent  of  the  longshore 
and  fishing-boat  variety,  whereas  the  true  Bre- 
ton is  a  sailor  through  and  through. 

Before  now,  Brittany  has  been  compared,  dis- 
paragingly, with  Provence,  and  with  some  just- 
ness perhaps.  Provence,  however,  does  not 
persistently  broil  under  a  "  fierce,  dry  heat," 
and  Brittany  is  not  by  any  means  ' '  a  wind  and 
wave  swept  land,  where  nothing  nourishes  it- 
self or  grows  fat."  Potatoes  are  even  fatten- 
ing, and  Brittany,  in  all  conscience,  grows 
enough  of  that  useful  commodity  to  feed  all 
France.  In  three  things  Brittany  and  Provence 
more  than  a  little  resemble  one  another.  Both 
preserve,  to  a  very  remarkable  extent,  their 
ancient  language  and  their  old-time  manners 
and  customs,  though  in  all  three  they  are  quite 
different  one  from  the  other. 

The  general  topographical  aspect  of  the  coast 
of  the  whole  Breton  peninsula  is  stern  and  wild, 
whether  one  encounters  the  dreary  waste  of 
sand,  in  the  midst  of  which  sit  Mont  St.  Michel 
and  Tombelaine,  or  the  cliffs  away  to  the  west- 
ward, or  the  bleak  and  barren  Belle  He  en 
Mer,  where  Fouquet  built  his  famous  strong- 
hold. 


Topography  of  the  Province        35 

On  the  "  Emerald  Coast  "  the  sea  and  sky 
are  often  of  a  true  Neapolitan  clearness,  and, 
indeed,  the  climate  of  the  whole  peninsula  is, 
even  in  winter,  as  mild  as  many  a  popularly 
fashionable  Mediterranean  resort ;  but  it  is  not 
always  so  bright  and  sunny;  there  is  a  deal  of 
rain  in  winter,  and  often  a  penetrating  damp- 
ness, whose  only  brother  is  the  genuine  Scotch 
mist. 

Still,  in  all  but  four  months  of  the  year,  there 
is  a  brilliancy  and  softness  about  the  climate 
of  the  coast  of  Brittany  which  encourages  vio- 
lets, roses,  onions,  and  potatoes  to  come  to 
maturity  at  so  early  a  date  that  the  Londoner 
has  ceased  to  raise  the  question  as  to  whether 
or  not  they  may  be  "  best  English,"  when  he 
sees  these  products  laid  out  of  an  early  morn- 
ing in  his  beloved  Covent  Garden. 

To  know  a  country  or  its  people  at  its  best, 
one  should  really  take  one  of  its  great  men  for 
a  guide.  Hear  then  what  Chateaubriand  says 
of  ' '  La  Terre  Bretonne  ' ' : 

"  This  long  peninsula,  of  a  wild  and  savage 
aspect,  has  much  of  singularity  about  it:  its 
narrow  valleys,  its  non-navigable  rivers  bath- 
ing the  feet  of  its  ruined  castle-keeps  and  cha- 
teaux, its  old  abbeys,  its  thatch-covered  houses, 
and  its  cattle  herded  together  in  its  arid  pas- 


36 


Eambles  in  Brittany 


tures.  One  valley  is  separated  from  another 
by  forests  of  oak,  with  holly  bushes  as  large 
as  beech-trees,  and  druidical  stones  around 
which  sea-birds  are  for  ever  circling. 

"  Of  an  imagination  lively,  but  nevertheless 
melancholic,  of  a  humour  as  flexible  as  their 
character  is  obstinate,  the  Bretons  are  distin- 
guished for  their  piety,  and  none  the  less  for 
their  bravery,  their  fidelity,  their  spirit  of  in- 
dependence, and  their  patriotism.  Proud  and 
susceptible,  but  without  ambition  and  little 
suited  to  the  affairs  of  court  or  state,  they  care 
nothing  for  honours  or  for  rank." 

The  picture  is  not  very  vivid,  but  it  is  won- 
derfully true,  and  of  this  one  meets  continual 
evidence  in  a  journey  around  the  coast,  from 
the  Bay  of  St.  Michel  in  the  north  to  Belle  He 
or  Nantes  in  the  south. 

No  part  of  France  has  a  physiognomy  more 
original  than  Bretagne ;  none  has  been  marked 
by  nature  in  a  more  emphatic  manner  than  this 
ancient  home  of  the  Celts. 

"...  la  terre  du  granit 
Et  de  l'immense  et  morne  lande." 

It  is  indeed  a  land  of  contrasts,  where  an- 
cient, mystical,  and  weird  menhirs  and  dolmens, 
relics  of  prehistoric  times,  are  mingled  with 


Topography  of  the  Province         37 

mediaeval  monuments  and  modern  forts,  arse- 
nals, and  viaducts. 

The  country  is  by  no  means  unlovely,  but 
it  partakes  of  none  of  the  conventional  beauties 
of  other  parts.  It  is  not  sterile,  though  it  is 
stern;  it  is  not  very  fertile,  but  its  product  is 
ample ;  and  it  stands  as  the  most  westerly  point 
of  the  mainland  of  Northern  Europe,  open  to 
all  the  wild  bufferings  of  the  tempestuous  At- 
lantic which  has  sculptured  its  coast-line  into 
such  fantastic  forms  that  a  shipwrecked  mari- 
ner must  think  himself  fallen  upon  the  most 
stern  and  rock-bound  of  coasts. 

The  general  aspect  of  Brittany  is  green  and 
gray.  It  is,  as  the  Breton  himself  says,  an  aus- 
tere heath,  —  the  country-side  half-effaced  in 
demi-tints,  and  the  sea  boisterous  and  wicked. 

This,  however,  is  only  one  of  its  moods;  to- 
morrow it  may  be  as  brilliantly  sunlit  as  the 
Bay  of  Naples,  and  may  have  a  sea  and  sky 
of  gold  and  turquoise.  But  this  mood  passes 
quickly,  and  again  it  settles  down  to  a  misty 
softness  and  mildness  of  climate  that  has  given 
its  name  to  one  of  the  five  great  climatic  divi- 
sions of  France,  the  Armorican. 

The  sunsets  of  Brittany  are  always  glorious. 
Nowhere  on  the  rim  of  great  ocean's  mirror 
are  there  more   splendid  and  grandly  scenic 


38  Rambles  in  Brittany 

effects  to  be  observed.    An  exceedingly  realistic 
Frenchman  once  described  a  sunset  in  the  Bay 
of  Douarnenez  as  a  "  bloody  apotheosis,"  the 
real  aspect  of  which  is  readily  inferred. 
Of  this  Breton  Cornouaille,  Beranger  sang: 

"  Faisons  honte  aux  hirondelles. 
Tu  croiras,  sur  nos  essieux, 
Que  la  terre  a  pris  des  ailes 
Pour  passer  devaut  les  yeux." 

The  country  inland  is  as  original  as  the  coast, 
and  both  the  peasant  on  shore  and  the  sailor 
on  the  sea  are  Breton  to  the  core.  Never  has 
Brittany  been  called  charming  or  gracious, 
never  lovely  or  sweet,  but  always  cold,  though 
not  so  in  climate,  which  is  always  terrible  and 
austere. 

But,  for  all  that,  it  is  delightful,  and  when 
one  has  tired  of  the  stupid  gaieties  of  Switzer- 
land or  the  Ehine,  let  him  rough  it  a  bit  among 
the  low  hills  and  valleys  of  the  Cotes  du  Nord, 
or  the  rocky  promontories  and  inlets  of  Finis- 
tere,  or,  on  the  south  coast  between  Quimper 
and  Nantes,  on  one  of  those  little  tidal  rivers 
such  as  the  Aven,  and  let  him  learn  for  himself 
that  there  is  something  new  under  the  sun,  even 
on  well-trodden  ground. 

Truth  to  tell,  Brittany  is  not  nearly  so  well 
known  to  English-speaking  folk  as  it  should  be. 


Topography  of  the  Province         39 

There  is  a  fringe  of  semi-invalid,  semi-society 
loiterers  centred  around  St.  Malo,  and  enli- 
vened in  the  summer  months  by  the  advent  of 
a  little  world  of  literary  and  artistic  folk  from 
Paris.  Then  there  is  an  artist  colony  or  two 
in  Lower  Brittany,  where  the  visitors  work 
hard,  dress  uncouthly,  and  live  cheaply  for 
four  or  five  months  of  the  year.  At  Nantes 
there  is  the  overflow  of  tourists  of  convention 
from  the  chateaux  district  of  Touraine,  and 
up  and  down  the  length  and  breadth  of  Brit- 
tany, from  Mont  St.  Michel  to  St.  Nazaire,  and 
from  Dol  to  Brest,  are  to  be  found  occasional 
wanderers  on  bicycles  or  in  motor-cars. 

The  great  mass,  however,  is  herded  around 
the  conventionally  "  gay  "  five  o'clock  resorts 
of  Dinard,  Parame,  and  St.  Malo,  and  in  by 
far  the  greater  area  of  the  province  the  seeker 
for  pleasure  and  true  edification  is  far  more 
rare  than  is  popularly  supposed.  The  occa- 
sional rather  wretched  hotel  has  hitherto  kept 
the  fastidious  away,  and  the  terrific  hobnails 
of  the  Breton  wooden  shoe  have  all  but  driven 
travellers  in  motor-cars  and  bicycle  riders  to 
despair.  Both  these  deterrents,  real  and  fan- 
cied, are  disappearing,  however.  The  hygienic 
bedrooms  of  the  Touring  Club  are  found  here 
and  there,  and  the  peasants,  or,  at  least,  some 


40  Rambles  in  Brittany 

of  them,  now  wear  a  sort  of  cast-iron  sole  ap- 
parently clamped  or  riveted  to  the  wooden 
shoe ;  at  least  there  are  no  big,  pointed,  mush- 
room-headed  tacks  to  drop  out,  point  upper- 
most, in  dry  weather. 

The  topographical  aspect  of  Brittany  is 
largely  due  to  the  two  great  zones  of  granite 
formation  which  come  together  at  their  western 
extremities,  —  the  mountains  of  Alengon  and 
the  jutting  rocks  that  come  to  the  surface  from 
Poitou  northward. 

In  general,  the  whole  aspect  of  Brittany 
echoes  the  words  of  Brizeaux,  the  Lorient  poet : 

"  O  terre  de  granit,  recouverte  de  chenes." 

One  would  hardly  call  Brittany  mountainous, 
but  its  elevations  are  notable,  nevertheless,  in 
that  they  rise,  for  the  most  part,  abruptly  from 
the  dead  level  of  the  ocean.  Inland,  the  topog- 
raphy takes  on  more  of  the  nature  of  a  rolling 
moorland,  with  granite  cropping  out  here  and 
there  in  the  elevations.  The  following  quatrain 
describes  it  exactly: 

"  A    MON    PAYS 

"  O  ma  chere  Bretagne, 

Que  j'aime  tes  halliers, 

Tes  verdoyants  graniers, 

Et  ta  noire  montagne." 

—  Corbinais. 


Topography  of  the  Province         41 

The  greatest  altitudes  in  Brittany  are:  The 
Sillon  de  Bretagne  (near  Savenay),  eighty-nine 
metres;  La  Motte  (Montagnes  Noires  between 
Quimper  and  Brest),  289  metres;  Menez  Horn 
(Montagnes  Noires),  330  metres;  Mont  St. 
Michel  (Montagne  d'Arree),  391  metres. 

The  Breton  rivers  are  not  great  rivers  as 
the  waterways  of  the  world  go,  although  they 
are  important  indeed  to  the  country  which  they 
irrigate.  Chief  among  them  are  the  Vilaine, 
navigable  to  Rennes,  the  Ranee,  the  Odet,  the 
Aulne,  and  of  course  the  Loire,  which  flanks 
the  southern  boundary  of  the  old  province 
nearly  up  to  its  juncture  with  the  Mayenne,  and 
continues  its  navigable  length  in  Brittany  up 
to,  and  a  trifle  beyond,  the  town  of  the  same 
name.  The  Couesnon,  flowing  northward  into 
the  vast  Bay  of  Mont  St.  Michel,  forms  the 
northeastern  boundary  separating  Brittany 
from  Normandy. 

The  great  length  of  irregular  coast-line  ac- 
counts for  the  continuation  of  the  generally 
severe  and  stern  aspect  of  the  interior,  the 
sombre  granite  cliffs  jutting  far  out  into  the 
open,  half-enclosing  great  bays  and  forming 
promontories  and  headlands  which  are  char- 
acteristically Breton  and  nothing  else.  They 
might  resemble  those  of  the  Greek  mainland 


42  Rambles  in  Brittany 

and  archipelago  were  they  but  environed  with 
the  life  and  languor  of  the  South,  but,  as  it  is, 
they  are  Breton  through  and  through,  and  their 
people  have  all  their  hopes  and  sympathies 
wrapped  up  in  the  occupations  of  a  colder  clime. 

The  old  territorial  limits  of  the  Province  of 
Brittany  embraced  a  small  tract  south  of  the 
Loire,  known  as  Le  Rais,  or  the  Betz  country. 

Here  is  Clisson,  the  feudal  castle  and  estate 
so  constantly  recurring  in  French  history. 
Pornic,  Paimbceuf,  and  the  Lac  de  Grande  Lieu 
also  lie  southward  of  the  Loire  in  this  old  ap- 
panage, but,  in  the  main,  Breton  history  was 
played  on  the  Armorican  peninsula  north  of 
the  Loire. 

The  height  of  the  tides  on  the  Breton  coast 
varies  considerably.  All  this  is  caused  by 
the  flow  of  the  North  Sea  and  the  Straits 
of  Calais  meeting  the  current  coming  directly 
from  the  Atlantic,  so  that  in  some  instances  the 
flood-tide  rises  to  a  height  of  from  fifty  to  sixty 
feet  above  ' '  dead  water, ' '  as  the  French  call  it. 

The  immense  Bay  of  Mont  St.  Michel,  at  low 
water,  is  a  stretch  of  bare  sand  more  than  three 
hundred  square  kilometres  in  extent,  but  it  is 
completely  covered  and  converted  into  a  great 
tranquil  gulf  by  the  rising  tide. 

At  Croisic,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Loire,  there 


Croisic 


Topography  of  the  Province         43 

is  a  5.16  metre  rise  of  the  tide,  which  around 
the  Breton  coast-line  varies  as  follows: 

Port  Navalo,  Morbihan         ....  4.72 

Lorient 4.60 

Concarneau 4.68 

Douarnenez          .         .         .         .         .         .  6.16 

Brest 6.42 

Ouessant 6.38 

Roscoff 8.22 

lie  Brehat 9.90 

St.  Malo 11.44 

lies  Chausey 11.74 

Mont  St.  Michel 12.30 

The  aspect  of  the  region  round  about  Dol, 
in  the  north,  is  that  of  a  little  Holland,  with 
its  flats  and  windmills  and  its  cultivated  ground 
protected  from  the  sea  by  a  rim  of  downs  and 
dikes.  It  is  not  so  very  great  an  expanse  that 
follows  these  outlines,  but  the  likeness  is  one 
to  be  remarked.  To  the  westward  lie  the  jut- 
ting rocks  and  capes,  beyond  which  are  the 
isolated  islands  of  Ouessant  and  its  fellows, 
and  all  around  the  coast  extend  landlocked 
bays  and  harbours  sheltering  the  great  fishing 
ports  of  Douarnenez  and  Concarneau  and  the 
commercial  ports  of  St.  Malo,  Morlaix,  Brest, 
Lorient,  and  Vannes. 

From  a  military  and  strategic  point  of  view 
the  whole  northwest  coast  of  France,  from  the 


44  Rambles  in  Brittany 

mouth  of  the  Loire  through  Brittany  and  Nor- 
mandy, is  exceedingly  well  protected,  with  a 
great  port  and  base  of  supplies  both  at  Brest 
in  Brittany  and  at  Cherbourg  in  Normandy. 

Forts  Minden,  Ville  Martin,  and  Penthievre, 
Port  Louis,  Lorient,  and  Brest,  and  the  Forts 
du  Pilier,  Le  Palais,  Lacroix,  Cezon,  and  Cha- 
teau du  Taureau,  with  St.  Malo  and  Fort  des 
Rimains,  protect  the  whole  Breton  seashore  in 
practically  unassailable  fashion,  though  there 
are  still  the  sea  fights  at  Ouessant,  in  1778  and 
1794,  and  The  Hogue  in  1692,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  land  engagements  at  Quiberon  in  1795, 
to  remember. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

TRAVEL   ROUTES   IN    BRITTANY 

Tourists  are  commonly  supposed  to  belong 
to  the  pleasure-seeking  or  invalid  class,  and 
so  they  mostly  do,  still  one  may  travel  for 
instruction  (which  is  pleasure,  also)  and  be 
mindful  of  the  conditions  of  life  around  him, 
and  profit  accordingly,  unless  he  absolutely  de- 
mands the  life  of  the  boulevards  of  Paris  or 
the  homoeopathic  excitements  of  the  little  horses 
in  some  popular  watering-place. 

It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  most  tourists  are 
of  limited  interests,  which  may  be  pleasure,  or 
art,  or  architecture,  or  worshipping  at  his- 
torical shrines.  All  this  is  well  enough  in  its 
way,  but  if  one  could  combine  a  modicum  of 
each  he  would  profit  much  more  largely,  to  say 
nothing  of  being  amused  and  instructed,  too. 

The  time  has  long  since  passed  when  travel- 
lers reviled  Brittany  as  a  province  where 
"  husbandry  was  no  further  advanced  than 
among  the  Hurons,"  as  a  writer  of  the  eight- 

45 


46  Rambles  in  Brittany 

eenth  century  said  within  twenty-four  hours 
after  he  had  crossed  the  boundary  between 
Normandy  and  Brittany,  at  Pontorson,  where 
the  causeway  road  branches  off  to  Mont  St. 
Michel.  Evidences  of  husbandry  are  still  very 
much  to  the  fore,  but  it  is  more  advanced  in 
the  interior,  at  least;  on  the  coast  the  harvest 
of  the  sea  takes  its  place. 

Brittany,  in  husbandry^  may  not  be  so  ad- 
vanced as  some  other  parts.  There  are  no  such 
elaborate  operations  going  on  here  as  in  the 
regions  where  high  farming  is  practised  —  in 
Beauce,  or  Normandy,  or  Anjou.  Neither  are 
such  numbers  of  mechanical  farming-tools  in 
operation,  but  in  spite  of  all  this  there  is  a 
very  considerable  and  prosperous  industry 
born  of  the  soil  of  which  most  strangers  to 
Brittany,  and  some  who  have  travelled  there, 
are  entirely  ignorant.  All  along  the  great  high- 
ways crossing  and  recrossing  Brittany  one  sees 
the  little  roadside  farms  with  their  attendant 
small  flocks  of  live  stock,  sheep,  cattle,  geese, 
ducks,  and  fowls,  which  point,  at  any  rate,  to 
the  fact  that  the  peasant  need  not  be  as  ill- 
nourished  as  he  is  generally  supposed  to  be; 
and  really  he  is  not. 

The  charm  of  journeying  by  road  in  France 
is  indescribable,  perhaps,  to  its  fullest  degree. 


Travel  Routes  in  Brittany  47 

Natural  beauties  count  for  much,  but  in  a  land 
peopled  with  historic  castles,  churches,  and  ab- 
beys, as  Normandy  and  Brittany  are,  it  is 
found  doubly  enjoyable  even  though  one  pro- 
fesses no  expert  architectural  knowledge,  or  no 
profound  aptitude  for  historical  research. 
These,  however,  are  but  side-lights,  which  make 
the  actual  pilgrimage  among  such  shrines 
greatly  to  be  cherished  among  one's  personal 
experiences. 

It  is  the  whole  which  pleases,  and  not  frag- 
mentary and  piecemeal  beauties  and  charms; 
and  never  was  this  more  true  than  of  a  well- 
beloved  land,  be  it  one's  own  or  an  alien  shore. 

Brittany  and  its  travel  routes,  whether  by 
road  or  rail,  offer  as  full  a  measure  of  all  these 
attractions  as  it  is  possible  for  one  to  con- 
ceive. 

The  great  highways  of  Brittany  have  not  the 
same  favour  with  travellers  by  road  as  those 
of  other  parts  of  France.  They  are  equally 
important  and  equally  well  cared  for  by  a 
paternal  government,  but  their  inclines  are 
steeper  —  sometimes  suicidal  —  and  certainly 
more  frequent  than  elsewhere  in  France,  and 
distances  stretch  out  interminably. 

The  great  national  road  which  stretches  from 
Paris  to  Brest  covers  a  distance  nearly  equal  to 


48 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


Travel  Routes  in  Brittany  49 


that  from  Paris  to   Turin,   or  from  Paris  to 
Amsterdam. 

There  are,  however,  in  Brittany  no  long 
stretches  of  unrolled  road  surface,  and  for  the 
most  part  the  roadways  are  as  smooth  as  can 
anywhere  be  found.  Were  it  not  for  the  eter- 
nal switchbacks,  and  the  aforementioned  hob- 
nail, with  its  pointed  end  usually  upmost,  Brit- 
tany would  be  a  far  more  popular  touring- 
ground  for  the  automobile  than  it  is.  The 
hooded  cart  of  Normandy  and  Brittany,  such 
as  one  meets  going  to  and  from  the  market- 
towns,  is  another  real  dread  to  the  man  in  the 
motor-car. 

It  is  not  that  the  occupant  is  unwilling  to 
hear  one's  horn,  but  it  is  almost  impossible 
that  he  should  against  a  head-wind,  until  you 
are  close  upon  him.  It  is  useless  to  point  to 
your  ear  as  you  whisk  by  and  ask  him  —  in  a 
shout  —  if  he  is  deaf,  or  to  say:  "  Well,  now, 
you  sleep  well."  He  will  pay  little  or  no  at- 
tention to  you,  and  anyway,  most  likely,  he 
was  not  asleep,  as  are  so  many  of  his  fellows 
that  one  meets  on  English  roads. 

In  Brittany  the  traveller  by  road  often  meets 
an  obstruction  in  the  shape  of  a  flock  of  sheep 
slowly  making  its  way  toward  one,  or  in  the 
opposite  direction,  or  even  a  flock  of  ducks  or 


50  Rambles  in  Brittany 

geese,  which  are  even  more  dreadful.  Sheep 
are  stupid,  hens  and  chickens  are  silly,  but 
geese  are  arrogant  and  obstinate. 

It  is  very  disconcerting,  of  course,  for  the 
motor-car  driver  at  full  speed  to  have  to  draw 
in  his  ten,  or  twenty,  or  thirty  horses  in  order 
to  avoid  decapitating  a  whole  goose  and  gos- 
ling family,  but  it  lends  a  charm  to  the  travel, 
which  a  badly  paved  stretch  of  roadway  —  in 
Picardy,  for  instance  —  wholly  lacks. 

Here  when  one  does  actually  run  into  a  flock 
of  geese,  such  as  one  sees  on  the  high-coloured 
posters  advertising  a  certain  make  of  car,  and 
in  the  comic  journals,  it  is  one  of  the  real 
humours  of  life.  The  amount  of  curiosity  an 
old  goose  or  gander  can  show  in  a  death-deal- 
ing motor-car  as  it  rushes  by,  and  the  chances 
they  take  of  sudden  death,  are  enough  to  give 
an  ordinarily  careful  driver  innumerable  heart- 
leaps. 

This  is  about  all  the  trouble  one  is  likely  to 
meet  on  Breton  roads,  except,  of  course,  the 
always  present  grazing  cows,  which  here, 
though  they  are  always  attended,  —  generally 
by  a  small  boy  or  girl,  who  often  is  not  able 
to  keep  them  in  line  as  one  would  wish,  —  are 
allowed  to  stray  freely,  and  are  not  tethered 
as  they  are  throughout  Normandy. 


Travel  Routes  in  Brittany  51 


It  is  not  for  the  aforesaid  reasons  alone  that 
motor-cars  are  scarce  in  Brittany,  for,  after 
all,  they  form  but  minor  troubles  as  compared 
with  the  eccentricities  of  the  machinery  itself, 
and  the  tourist  in  a  motor-car  is  usually  pre- 
pared for  most  things  which  are  likely  to 
happen  to  him  en  route.  So  really  if  one  likes 
a  hilly  country  —  and  it  is  not  without  its 
charms  —  Brittany  offers  much  in  the  way  of 
varied  and  natural  beauties  that  certain  other 
provinces  lack.  Touraine,  for  instance,  de- 
lightful as  it  is  as  a  touring-ground,  is  as  pro- 
verbially flat  as  a  billiard-table. 

There  are,  in  the  first  place,  not  nearly  so 
many  motor-cars  owned  in  Brittany,  and  ac- 
cordingly there  are  astonishingly  few  shelters 
and  repairers.  Apparently,  the  Breton  does 
not  care  for  the  new-fangled  means  of  loco- 
motion, not  recognizing,  perhaps,  that  it  has 
come  to  stay.  Still  less  does  the  Breton  peas- 
ant's brother,  the  Breton  sailor  or  fisherman, 
care  for  the  motor-boat,  which  ought  to  have 
a  great  vogue  in  such  great  inland  seas  as 
Morbihan,  the  Bay  of  Douarnenez,  or  the 
Goulet  or  the  roadstead  of  Brest, 

The  sailor  of  Brest  or  Lorient  find  the  little 
fishing  villages  of  the  west  will  tell  you :    "I 


52 Rambles  in  Brittany 

like  my  boat  better,  with  my  sail  and  my  arms 
for  motors.' ' 

Often  these  great  stretches  of  Breton  road- 
way show  an  aspect  of  human  nature  that  is 
probably  the  same  the  world  over;  a  peasant 
man  or  woman  is  leading  a  cow,  —  always  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  road,  of  course, —  or  a 
sleepy  farm-hand  is  drawing  his  cart  to  or 
from  market,  —  still  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
road,  —  when  the  whirr  and  snort  of  a  motor- 
car does  something  more  than  awaken  echoes. 

The  cows  entangle  themselves  in  their  lead- 
ing ropes,  and  the  usually  placid  horses  bolt 
with  the  cart  into  the  ditch.  The  native,  of 
course,  reviles  the  car  and  its  occupants,  not 
because  he  hates  them,  —  for  they  are  one  of 
the  mainstays  of  the  inns  of  the  countryside,  — 
but  merely  to  display  that  untamable  spirit  of 
independence,  which  every  mother's  son  of  a 
French  peasant  has  developed  to  a  high  de- 
gree. 

In  Brittany,  as  in  most  other  lands,  —  in  sum- 
mer, —  the  traveller  by  road  gathers  in  a  fine 
crop  of  wingy,  stingy  things,  which  project 
themselves  into  one's  eyes  with  a  formidable 
force  when  one  goes  at  them  with  a  swift-mov- 
ing car. 

Occasionally  one  thinks  he  has  come  upon  a 


Travel  Routes  in  Brittany  53 

vast  convention  of  them,  so  many  are  they  in 
numbers  and  variety  —  flies,  wasps,  bees,  and 
what  not,  with  a  peculiar  Gallic  species  of  fly 
so  infinitesimal  that  one  only  stops  to  clear 
them  out  when  he  feels  that  his  eyes  are  so 
full  of  them  that  they  may  be  uncomfortably 
crowded.  The  real  or  fabled  Jersey  mosquito 
would  go  out  of  business  with  his  Breton 
brother  as  a  competitor.  Truly  this  is  a  new 
terror,  and  one  that  certainly  was  not  appar- 
ent, to  anything  like  the  present  extent,  before 
the  advent  of  the  motor-car. 

One  comes  upon  a  dull  week  in  Brittany 
often,  even  in  summer,  when  the  sky  remains 
overcast,  and  great  clouds  roll  up  from  out  of 
the  western  ocean.  Often  it  is  not  cold,  but 
it  is  bitterly  damp  and  sticky,  even  though  it 
does  not  rain,  but  the  native  does  not  seem  to 
mind  it,  at  least,  he  never  complains. 

The  only  objector  ever  met  with  by  the  writer 
was  a  Gascon  who  kept  a  pharmacy  at  Quim- 
per.  He  discussed  it  as  follows:  "Hideous 
country!  The  wind  blows  here  every  day  in 
the  year,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  it  rains,"  he 
continued,  enigmatically.  "  Yes,  that  abom- 
inable wind  always  plays  the  same  trick  on 
me!  What  a  country!  "  He  was  probably 
thinking  of  his   own  bright  and  sunny  home 


54  Rambles  in  Brittany 

in  the  South,  where  seldom,  if  ever,  are  con- 
ditions other  than  brilliantly  tranquil. 

There  are  three  great  highroads  which  cross 
Brittany  from  east  to  west,  the  main  road  of 
Brittany  from  Alengon  in  Normandy,  through 
Mayenne,  Fougeres,  Dol,  Dinan,  Guingamp,  and 
Morlaix  to  Brest;  the  southern  road  from 
Paris  via  Le  Mans,  or  even  following  the  Loire 
valley  down  from  Orleans  to  Nantes,  and  thence 
westward  via  Vannes,  Lorient,  and  Quimper  to 
Brest,  thus  making  the  complete  circuit  of  the 
Breton  coast.  A  midway  course  lies  in  almost 
a  direct  line  east  and  west  through  Laval,  Vitre, 
Kennes,  Ploermel,  Pontivy,  and  Carhaix. 

These  three  highroads  cover  completely  the 
itinerary  of  Brittany,  in  so  far  as  they  follow 
the  north  and  south  coast  and  the  country-side 
lying  between. 

Cross  country,  from  the  Bay  of  Mont  St. 
Michel  to  the  mouth  of  the  Loire,  one  "  route 
nationale  "  lies  directly  through  Eennes,  and 
another  ends  at  Vannes,  in  Morbihan. 

These  cover  practically  all  the  regular  lines 
of  traffic,  and  include  all  the  chief  points  of 
historical  and  topographical  instances. 

Distances  of  themselves  are  not  great  in 
Brittany.  From  St.  Malo  to  Nantes  is  but  180 
kilometres;   from  Laval  to  Brest  but  337  kilo- 


Travel  Routes  in  Brittany 


55 


56  Rambles  in  Brittany 

metres;   and  from  Nantes  to  Brest  is  but  324 
kilometres. 

In  these  days  of  motor-cars  and  even  bicy- 
cles, these  distances  are  not  great,  and  so  long 
as  they  are  not  taken  at  a  rush, —  which  for- 
bids enjoyment,  —  they  form  no  drawback  to 
the  pleasures  of  travel  by  road  in  Brittany. 
One  has  only  to  add  two  or  three  hundred  kilo- 
metres more,  in  order  to  reach  the  starting- 
points  of  Nantes,  Laval,  or  St.  Malo  from 
Paris.  Then  the  tour  may  seem  a  lengthy  one ; 
but  even  this  is  nothing  to  find  fault  with;  the 
intermediate  country  is  in  itself  delightful, 
whether  one  journeys  down  through  the  Or- 
leanais,  Touraine,  and  Anjou,  or  westward 
through  the  heart  of  Normandy. 

The  railways  in  Brittany,  except  on  some  of 
the  cross-country  routes,  are  developed  to  a 
high  stage  of  efficiency.  The  great  express 
lines  of  the  Western  Railroad  to  St.  Malo  and 
to  Brest  run  due  west  from  Paris,  straight 
almost  as  the  crow  flies.  Again,  one  may  make 
his  entry  via  Nantes  and  the  Loire  valley 
through  Touraine  and  Anjou  by  the  Orleans 
line,  and  have  the  satisfaction  of  setting  out 
from  Paris  by  the  world's  finest  and  most  mod- 
ern railway  station,  that  wonderfully  convenient 
and  artistic  structure  on  the  Quay  of  Orsay. 


Travel  Routes  in  Brittany  57 

Rennes  is  the  great  railway  centre  of  Brit- 
tany, and  accordingly  all  roads  lead  to  Rennes. 
Here  one  may  make  up  his  itinerary  at  a 
price  which  will  include  nearly  every  place 
west  of  that  point  for  a  matter  of  frcs.  65 
for  first-class,  and  frcs.  50,  second-class,  and 
if  he  tell  the  clerk  of  the  booking-office  at 
his  point  of  departure  for  Rennes  that  he  in- 
tends doing  this  (and  agrees  with  the  formali- 
ties) he  will  get  a  discount  of  forty  per  cent, 
on  the  price  of  first  or  second  class  tickets  up 
to  that  point.  A  plan  of  this  itinerary  and 
further  particulars  are  given  in  the  appendix. 

Third-class  railway  travel  in  Brittany  ought 
to  form  one  of  the  long-remembered  experi- 
ences of  one's  visit  to  that  province. 

There  is  much  amusement  to  be  got  out  of 
a  journey  across  Brittany  from  St.  Malo  to 
Nantes,  with  mob-capped  peasant-folk  and  blue- 
bloused  and  picturesque  farmers,  all  laden 
with  huge  baskets  and  bundles,  and  an  occa- 
sional live  fowl,  or  perhaps  a  rabbit,  or  even 
a  guinea-pig,  though  one  must  not  believe  that 
Frenchmen  eat  guinea-pigs.  The  writer,  at 
least,  never  saw  one  being  eaten,  though  what 
use  they  are  really  put  to  is  an  open  question. 

Occasionally  there  will  be  a  want  of  elbow- 
room  in  a  third-class  carriage,  but  this  is  no 


58 Rambles  in  Brittany 

great  inconvenience,  as  the  Breton  mostly 
travels  short  distances  only,  and  at  the  next 
station  one  may  be  left  alone  with  only  a 
drowsy  Breton  sailor  —  off  on  a  furlough  from 
a  man-of-war  —  to  keep  him  company,  with  his 
red-knobbed  tam-o'-shanter  rakishly  over  one 
ear. 

Often  a  foreigner  will  throw  himself  into 
one 's  compartment,  —  an  American  or  an  Eng- 
lish artist,  with  his  sketching  paraphernalia, 
white  umbrella  and  all,  —  for  artist-folk  are 
mostly  of  the  genus  who  travel  third-class. 
Good-naturedly  enough,  if  his  journey  be  a  long 
one,  he  will  tell  you  much  of  the  country  round 
about,  for  your  artist  is  one  who  knows  the 
byways  as  well  as  the  highways  —  and  per- 
haps a  little  better.  By  this  procedure,  one 
stands  a  chance  of  gathering  information  as 
well  as  being  edified  and  amused. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  BRETON  TONGUE  AND  LEGEND 

The  speech  of  Brittany,  like  its  legend  and 
folk-lore,  has  ever  been  a  prolific  subject  with 
many  writers  of  many  opinions. 

The  comparison  of  the  speech  of  the  Welsh- 
man with  that  of  the  Breton  has  often  been 
made,  but  by  no  one  so  successfully  as  by  Henri 
Martin,  the  historian,  who,  in  writing  of  his 
travels  in  Wales,  told  how  he  had  chatted  with 
the  Celtic  population  there  and  made  himself 
thoroughly  understood  through  his  knowledge 
of  Breton  speech. 

In  its  earliest  phases,  the  Breton  tongue  had 
a  literature  of  its  own,  at  least  a  spoken  litera- 
ture, coming  from  the  mouths  of  its  bards  and 
popular  poets.  In  our  own  day,  too,  Brittany 
has  its  own  songs  and  verses,  which,  though 
many  of  them  have  not  known  the  medium  of 
printer's  ink,  have  come  down  from  past  gen- 
erations. 

The  three  ancient  Armorican  kingdoms   or 

59 


60 


Rambles  in  Brittany- 


states,  Domnonee,   Cornouaille,  and  the   Bro- 
Waroch,  had  their  own  distinct  dialects. 

There  is  and  was  a  considerable  variation  in 
the  speech  throughout  Brittany,  though  it  is 
and  was  all  Breton.  The  dialects  of  Vannes, 
Quimper,  and  Treguier  are  the  least  known 
outside  their  own  immediate  neighbourhood; 
the  Leonais  of  St.  Pol  de  Leon  is  the  regular 
and  common  tongue  of  all  Bas  Bretons. 

The  old-time  limits  of  the  Breton  tongue  are 
wavering  to-day,  and  from  time  to  time  have 
drawn  appreciably  toward  the  west,  so  that 
the  boundary-line,  which  once  ran  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Loire  to  Mont  St.  Michel,  now 
starts  at  the  mouth  of  the  Vilaine,  and  finishes 
at  a  point  on  the  northern  coast,  a  little  to  the 
westward  of  St.  Brieuc. 

It  was  during  the  decadence  of  the  Breton 
tongue  —  known  to  philologists  as  the  third 
period  —  that  the  monk  Abelard  cried  out: 
"  The  Breton  tongue  makes  me  blush  with 
shame. ' ' 

The  nearer  one  comes  to  Finistere,  the  less 
liable  he  is  to  meet  the  French  tongue  unadul- 
terated. The  numbers  knowing  the  Breton 
tongue  alone  more  than  equal  those  who  know 
French  and  Breton,  leaving  those  who  know 
French  alone  vastly  in  the  minority.     The  fig- 


The  Breton  Tongue  and  Legend      61 

ures  seem  astonishing  to  one  who  does  not 
know  the  country,  but  they  are  unassailable, 
nevertheless. 

Here  in  this  department  at  least,  and  to  a 
lesser  degree  in  the  Cotes  du  Nord  and  the  Mor- 
bihan  provinces,  one  is  likely  enough  to  hear 
lisped  out,  as  if  it  were  the  effort  of  an  Eng- 
lishman: "  Je  na  sais  pas  ce  que  vous  elites," 
or  "  Je  n'entend  rien."  No  great  hardship  or 
inconvenience  is  inflicted  upon  one  by  all  this, 
but  now  and  again  one  wishes  he  were  a  Welsh- 
man, for  the  only  foreigners  who  can  under- 
stand the  lingo  are  Taffy's  fellow  country- 
men. 

Breton  legend  is  as  weird  and  varied  as  that 
of  any  land.  It  is  astonishingly  convincing, 
too,  from  the  story  of  King  Grollo  and  his 
wicked  daughter,  who  came  from  the  Britain 
across  the  seas,  the  Bluebeard  legend,  the  Ar- 
thurian legend,  which  Bretons  claim  as  their 
own,  as  do  Britons,  to  those  less  incredible  tales 
of  the  Corsairs  of  St.  Malo  and  the  exploits  of 
Duguesclin  and  Surcouf. 

There  is  a  quaint  Breton  saying  referring 
to  little  worries,  which  runs  thus:  "  When  the 
wind  blows  up  from  the  sea,  I  turn  my  barrel 
to  the  north;  when  it  blows  down  from  the 
hills,  I  turn  my  barrel  to  the  south.' '     "  And 


62 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


The  Breton  Tongue  and  Legend      63 

when  it  blows  all  four  ways  at  once  1  ' '  "  Why, 
then  I  crawl  under  the  barrel." 

This  is  exactly  the  Breton's  attitude  toward 
life  to-day,  but  he  finds  a  deal  of  consolation 
in  his  legends  and  songs  of  the  past,  and  in 
his  ruffled  moments  they  serve  to  put  him  in 
a  good  humour  again.  This  is  something  more 
than  mere  superstition,  it  is  a  philosophical 
turn  of  mind,  and  that  is  good  for  a  man.  The 
heroes  of  legend  are  frequently  those  of  his- 
tory. One  may  cite  Joan  of  Arc  with  relation 
to  old  France,  and  Duguesclin  in  Brittany. 
There  is  a  difference,  of  course,  and  it  is  wide, 
but  the  comparison  will  serve,  as  there  is  no 
other  character  in  all  the  history  of  Brittany  — 
unless  it  be  that  of  Duguay-Trouin,  the  Corsair 
of  St.  Malo  —  who  stands  out  so  distinctly  in 
the  popular  mind  as  does  Duguesclin,  ' '  the  real 
Breton." 

There  is  none  in  his  own  country,  however 
illiterate  he  may  be,  and  the  Breton  peasant, 
in  some  parts,  is  notoriously  illiterate,  who 
knows  not  this  hero's  name  and  glory.  Still 
more  deeply  rooted  are  the  old  folk-lore  super- 
stitions which  have  come  down  through  the 
ages  by  word  of  mouth,  no  doubt  with  the  ac- 
cruing additions  of  time. 

Morlaix  is  the  very  centre  of  a  land  of  mys- 


64  Rambles  in  Brittany 

tery,  tradition,  and  superstition.  Among  these 
superstitious  legends,  "  Jan  Gant  y  tan,"  as 
it  is  known  by  its  Breton  title,  stands  out 
grimly. 

Jan,  it  seems,  is  a  species  of  demon  who 
carries  by  night  five  candles  on  the  five  fingers 
of  each  hand,  and  waves  them  wildly  about, 
calling  down  wrath  upon  those  who  may  have 
offended  him. 

Another  is  to  the  effect  that  hobgoblins  eat 
the  cream  which  rises  on  milk  at  night. 

Yet  another  superstition  is  that  the  call  of 
the  cuckoo  announces  the  year  of  one's  mar- 
riage or  death. 

Another,  and  perhaps  the  most  curious  of 
all,  is  that,  if  an  infant  by  any  chance  gets  his 
clothes  wet  at  certain  pools  or  fountains,  he 
will  die  within  a  year,  but  he  will  live  long 
years  if  he  fall  in,  yet  is  able  to  preserve  his 
garments  from  all  dampness. 

When  one  drinks  of  the  Fountain  of  De  Kri- 
gnac  three  times  within  the  hour,  says  the  peas- 
ant of  Plougasnou,  and  is  not  cured  of  the  fever, 
let  him  abandon  all  thoughts  of  a  remedy  and 
prepare  for  death. 

There  are  two  legends  associated  with  Brit- 
tany which  are  little  known.  Both  relate  to 
Bluebeard.     This  legend  is  of  Eastern  origin, 


The  Breton  Tongue  and  Legend      65 

as  far  as  concerns  the  story  of  the  man  who 
slew  his  wives  by  dragging  them  about  by  the 
hair,  ultimately  decapitating  them;  but  the 
French  Academy  of  Inscriptions  and  Polite 
Learning  evolves  a  sort  of  modern  parallel  as 
another  setting  for  the  same  apocryphal  story. 
It  concerns  a  certain  Trophime,  the  daughter 
of  a  Duke  of  Vannes,  in  the  sixth  century.  She 
was  married  to  the  Lord  of  Gonord,  whose 
castle  was  situated  on  Mont  Castanes,  and  was 
the  eighth  wife  of  her  husband.  He  killed  her 
because  she  discovered  the  bodies  of  her  seven 
predecessors;  but  her  sister  Anne  prayed  to 
St.  Gildas,  who  came  with  her  two  brothers 
to  the  rescue.  St.  Gildas  restored  Trophime  to 
life,  and  the  Bluebeard  of  Gonord  and  his  castle 
were  swallowed  up  by  the  earth. 

The  origin  of  the  story  has  always  been  in 
doubt,  but  the  generally  accepted  theory  is  that 
Perrault  founded  the  tale  on  the  history  of 
Gilles  de  Laval,  Seigneur  de  Rais. 

The  Academy,  however,  destroys  all  this 
early  conjecture  in  favour  of  the  Gilles  de 
Laval  affair.  Since  Gilles  de  Laval  was  a  kins- 
man of  the  Dukes  of  Brittany,  the  following  is 
given  as  his  claim  to  having  played  the  part, 
though,  as  the  report  of  the  Academy  goes  on 


66 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


to  say,  De  Laval  proved  himself  to  be  but  a 
fanatical  sorcerer. 

Gilles  de  Laval  was  born  in  1404,  and  was 
a  member  of  the  family  of  Laval-Montmorency. 
He  was  handsome,  well  born,  rich,  and  a  most 
valiant  soldier,  and  one  of  the  warmest  sup- 
porters of  Joan  of  Arc,  whom  he  defended 
against  all  who  spoke  ill  of  her,  constituting 

himself  her  per- 
s  o  n  a  1  champion. 
He  fought  val- 
iantly with  the 
"  Maid,"  and  was 
made  a  marshal  of 
France  when 
twenty  -  six  years 
of  age.  He  was 
very  wealthy,  and 
he  doubled  his  pos- 
sessions when  he 
married  at  the  early  age  of  sixteen.  His  ex- 
travagances, however,  were  greater  than  his 
riches.  He  had  a  refined  taste,  and  loved  illu- 
minated manuscripts,  stamped  Spanish  leather, 
Flemish  tapestries,  Oriental  carpets,  gold  and 
silver  plate,  music,  and  mystery  plays.  After 
peace  was  made,  he  and  his  wife  retired  to 
their  castles  and  lands  in  the  Vendee,  where 


Gilles  de  Laval,  after  an  engrav- 
ing of  the  fifteenth,  century  in  the 
Bibliotheque  Nationale. 


The  Breton  Tongue  and  Legend      67 

Grilles  soon  found  himself  hopelessly  in  debt. 
He  had  to  find  money  somehow,  for  he  was  of 
a  fine,  open-handed  disposition,  and  had  never 
denied  himself  anything.  It  was  only  natural 
in  that  century  that  he  should  turn  his  thoughts 
toward  alchemy  and  the  philosopher's  stone. 

Francesco  Prelati,  an  Italian  with  a  reputa- 
tion as  a  magician  and  a  maker  of  gold,  was 
installed,  with  all  his  alchemist's  apparatus,  in 
Grilles 's  castle;  but  when  he  was  asked  to  make 
gold,  he  confided  to  his  patron  that  it  would 
be  necessary  to  summon  the  aid  of  the  devil, 
and  that  for  this  purpose  the  blood  of  young 
children  was  absolutely  required.  The  two 
then  scoured  the  country  round  for  children, 
whom  they  murdered  with  horrible  rites,  until 
at  last  their  crimes  became  so  notorious  that 
they  were  arrested  and  tried  at  Nantes.  Gilles 
de  Laval  and  his  accomplice  were  accused  of 
murdering  no  fewer  than  twelve  hundred  chil- 
dren, and  were  tried  for  sorcery  and  found 
guilty.  The  Lord  of  Laval  was  strangled,  and 
his  body  was  burned;  but  Francesco  Prelati, 
as  a  mere  vulgar  sorcerer,  was  burned  alive. 

At  Saint  Cast  in  the  Cotes  du  Nord,  one  hears 
vague  and  fabulous  reports  from  the  natives, 
even  to-day,  of  a  pirate  ship  —  a  veritable  sis- 
ter ship  to  those  of  Duguay-Trouin  of  St.  Malo 


68  Rambles  in  Brittany 

—  named  the  Perillon  and  commanded  by  one 
Besnard,  known  as  the  terror  of  the  seas. 
Like  other  songs  of  seafarers  of  the  days  gone 
by,  that  concerning  the  terror  of  the  seas  is 
good  enough  to  incorporate  into  the  text  of 
some  rattling  story  of  pirates  and  corsairs, 
such  as  boys  —  and  some  grown-ups  —  the 
world  over  like.  Another  popular  Breton  air 
was  known  as  "  Biron  ha  D'Estin  "  ("  Byron 
and  D'Estaing  "),  and  had  to  do  with  the  war 
in  America.  Another  was  the  "  Chant  du  Pi- 
loted '  and  had  for  its  subject  the  combat  of 
the  Surveillante  and  the  forts  at  Quebec  in 
1780. 

Of  the  same  period  was  the  "  Corsairs' 
Song,"  which  is  very  well  known  throughout 
Upper  Brittany  even  to-day,  beginning  thus: 

"  Le  trente-un  du  mois  d'aout." 

Throughout  Upper  Brittany  also  one  hears  the 
old  housewives  still  mumbling  the  old  words 
and  air  of  the  song  current  in  the  times  of 
Francis  the  First. 

It  was  when  the  prince  was  treating  for  his 
release  from  captivity  that  the  words  first  took 
shape  and  form: 

"  Qnand  le  roi  departit  de  France, 
Vive  le  roi ! 


The  Breton  Tongue  and  Legend      69 

A  la  male  heure  il  departit, 

Vive  Louis  ! 
A  la  male  heure  il  departit  (bis). 


II  departit  jour  de  dimanche. 
Je  ne  suis  pas  le  roi  de  France. 


Je  suis  un  pauvre  gentilhomme 
Qui  va  de  pays  en  pays. 

Retourne-t-en  vite  a  Paris." 


CHAPTER   VI. 


MANNERS   AND    CUSTOMS 


To-day  the  Bretons  are  the  most  loyal  of  all 
the  citizens  of  the  great  republic  of  France. 
In  reality  they  are  a  most  democratic  people, 
though  they  often  affect  a  devotion  for  old 
institutions  now  defunct.  They  may  be  a  super- 
stitious race,  but  they  are  not  suspicious,  al- 
though they  have  marked  prejudices.  When 
thoroughly  understood,  they  are  both  likable 
and  lovable,  though  their  aspect  be  one  of  a 
certain  sternness  and  aloofness  toward  the 
stranger.  Their  weapons  are  all  in  plain  view, 
however,  like  the  hedgehog's;  there  is  nothing 
concealed  to  thwart  one's  desires  for  relations 
with  them. 

Their  country,  their  climate,  and  their  en- 
vironment have  much  to  do  with  their  char- 
acter, manners,  and  customs ;  and  environment 
—  as  some  one  may  have  said  before  —  is  the 
greatest  influence  at  work  in  shaping  the  atti- 
tude of  a  people  toward  an  outsider,  and  every 

70 


Manners  and  Customs  71 


one   is   still   an   outsider  to   a   Breton,  be  lie 
French,  English,  or  American. 

The  Breton  is  really  a  gayer  person  than 
his  expression  leads  one  to  suppose.  Madame 
de  Sevigne  wrote,  with  some  assurance,  as  was 
her  wont:  "  You  make  me  prefer  the  game- 
someness  of  our  Bretons  to  the  perfumed  idle- 
ness of  the  Provencals." 

Certainly,  to  one  who  knows  both  races,  the 
comparison  was  well  made.  It  is  a  case  of  do- 
ing mischief  against  doing  nothing. 

Brittany  has  not  Normandy's  general  air  of 
prosperity,  and  indeed  at  times  there  is  a  very 
near  approach  to  poverty  and  distress,  and 
then  it  is  bruited  abroad  in  the  public  prints 
that  the  fisheries  have  proved  a  failure. 

The  Breton  farming  peasant,  however,  is  not 
the  poverty-stricken  wretch  that  he  has  some- 
times been  painted.  He  lives  humbly,  and  eats 
vast  quantities  of  potatoes  and  bread,  little 
meat,  some  fish,  always  a  salad,  and,  usually, 
a  morsel  of  cheese,  but  he  eats  it  off  a  cleanly 
scrubbed  bare  board  and  from  clean  and  un- 
chipped  plates. 

In  his  stable,  such  few  belongings  in  the  form 
of  live  stock  as  he  has  are  well  fed  and  con- 
tented, and  his  chickens  and  ducks  and  pigs  and 
cows  are  as  much  a  pride  and  profit  to  him  as 


72  Rambles  in  Brittany 

to  the  peasant  of  other  parts;  but,  after  all, 
Brittany  is  not  a  land  of  milk  and  honey.  The 
peasant  lives  in  the  atmosphere  of  dogged,  ob- 
stinate labour,  but  he  draws  a  competence  from 
it,  and  it  is  mostly  those  who  live  in  the  sea- 
coast  villages,  and  those  who  will  huddle  them- 
selves in  and  about  the  large  towns  and  ports, 
such  as  Quimper  and  Brest,  that  are  ever  in 
want,  and  then  only  because  of  some  untoward, 
unexpected  circumstance. 

Agriculture  and  the  business  of  the  sea  are 
closely  allied  in  Brittany.  Hundreds  upon  hun- 
dreds of  young  men  work  in  the  winter  upon 
farms  far  inland,  and  come  down  to  the  sea 
with  the  coming  of  February  and  March,  to 
ship  in  some  longshore  fishing-smack,  or  even 
to  go  as  far  away  as  Newfoundland,  the  Ork- 
neys, or  to  Iceland. 

This  gives  not  only  a  peculiar  blend  of  char- 
acter, but  also  a  peculiar  cast  of  countenance 
to  the  Breton;  he  is  a  sort  of  half -land  and 
half-sea  specimen  of  humanity,  and  handy  at 
the  business  of  either. 

In  many  ports,  the  Breton  struggles  contin- 
ually against  shifting  sand,  —  sand  which  is 
constantly  shifting  when  piled  in  banks  on 
the  seashore,  and  becomes  of  the  nature  of 
quicksand  when  lying  beneath  the  water  where 


Manners  and  Customs  73 

the  Breton  moors  his  lobster-pots.  Between 
the  two,  he  is  constantly  harassed,  and  until 
the  off  season  comes  has  little  of  that  gaiety 
into  which  he  periodically  relaxes.  Every  one 
will  remark  that  the  aspect  of  both  men  and 
women  is  sombre  and  dark,  even  though  their 
spontaneous  gaiety  and  dress  on  the  feast  of 
a  patron  saint  or  at  a  great  pardon  gives  one 
the  impression  of  gladness. 

One  sees  this  when  on  the  great  holidays  the 
Breton  peasant  is  moved  to  song,  and  chants 
such  lines  as  the  following,  which  more  nearly 
correspond  in  sentiment  to  "  We  won't  go  home 
till  morning  "  than  anything  else  that  can  be 
thought  of. 

"  J'ai  deux  grands  bceufs  dans  mon  stable, 
J'ai  deux  grands  boeufs  marques  de  rouge ; 
lis  gagnent  plus  dans  une  semaine 
Qu'ils  n'en  ont  coute\  qu'ils  n'en  ont  coute\ 

J'aime  Jeanne  ma  femme  ! 

J'aime  Jeanne  ma  femme ! 
Eh  bien  !  j'aimerais  mieux  la  voir  mourir, 
Que  de  voir  mourir  mes  bceufs.'* 

Doubtless  there  is  not  so  much  hard-hearted- 
ness  about  the  sentiment  as  is  expressed  by  the 
words,  which,  to  say  the  least  and  the  most, 
are  not  wholly  up  to  the  standard  of  "  love, 
cherish,  and  protect/ ' 


74  Rambles  in  Brittany 

Once  in  awhile  one  sees  the  type  of  man  who 
is  known  among  his  fellows  as  Breton  des 
plus  Bretons.  Like  his  Norman  brother,  the 
Breton  in  the  off  season  works  hard  playing 
dominoes  or  cards  in  the  taverns,  where  one 
reads  on  a  sign  over  the  door  that  Jean  X 
donne  a  boire  et  d  manger,  that  is,  if  the  sign 
be  not  in  Breton,  which  more  often  than  not 
it  is. 

The  landlord  does  not  exactly  "  give  "  his 
fare;  he  exchanges  it  for  copper  sous,  but  he 
caters  for  the  inner  man  at  absurdly  small 
prices,  and  accordingly  is  well  patronized,  in 
spite  of  his  refusal  of  credit. 

Bowls  is  the  national  game  of  Brittany,  hav- 
ing a  greater  hold  upon  the  simple-minded  Bre- 
ton, particularly  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Lannion,  than  any  other  amusement.  No  re- 
spectably ambitious  inn  in  all  Brittany  is  with- 
out its  bowling-alley.  As  a  distraction,  it  is 
mild  and  harmless,  and  withal  good  exercise, 
as  we  all  know. 

The  religious  fervour  of  the  Breton  folk  has 
been  remarked  of  all  who  know  them  howso- 
ever slightly.  It  is  universal,  and,  if  it  be  more 
apparent  in  one  place  than  any  other,  it  is  in 
the  Department  of  Finistere,  and  it  is  not  in 
the  cities  and  towns  that  it  reaches  its  greatest 


Manners  and  Customs  75 


height,  but  mostly  in  the  country-side,  or-  on 
the  seacoast  among  the  labourers  and  the  fisher- 
folk. 

The  religion  of  Brittany  to-day  is  of  the 
people  and  for  the  people.  It  is  one  of  the 
great  questions  of  the  world  to-day,  but  from 
a  dogmatic  point  of  view  it  shall  have  no  dis- 
cussion here.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  throughout 
France,  with  the  numerous  great,  and  nearly 
always  empty,  churches  ever  before  one,  one 
can  but  realize  that  the  power  of  the  Church 
is  not  what  it  once  was. 

The  churchgoers  are  chiefly  women ;  seldom, 
if  ever,  except  on  a  great  feast-day,  are  the 
churches  filled  with  a  congregation  at  all  rep- 
resentative of  the  population  of  the  parish,  and 
even  in  the  great  cathedrals  the  same  impres- 
sion nearly  always  holds  good. 

In  Brittany,  the  case  is  somewhat  different, 
in  the  country  districts  at  least,  and  even  at 
Roscoff,  Quimper,  Vannes,  and  Rennes,  where 
there  are  great  cathedrals.  In  Brittany,  in 
every  parish  church  and  at  every  wayside 
shrine,  is  almost  always  to  be  found  not  only 
a  little  knot  of  devoutly  kneeling  peasants,  but, 
on  all  occasions  of  mark,  a  congregation  over- 
flowing beyond  the  doors.  What  this  all  sig- 
nifies, as  before  said,  is  no  concern  of  the  writer 


76  Rambles  in  Brittany 

of  this  book.  It  is  simply  a  recorded  state  of 
affairs,  and,  judging  from  the  attitude  of  the 
people  themselves  —  when  seen  on  the  spot  — 
toward  the  subject  of  religion,  the  most  liberal 
thinker  would  hardly  consider  that  here  in 
Brittany  religion  was  anything  else  than  spon- 
taneous devotion  on  the  part  of  the  people. 

Of  religion  and  priests,  Brittany  is  full,  but 
the  people  are  not  by  any  means  priest-ridden, 
as  many  uncharitable  and  slack  observers  have 
asserted  before  now.  No  priest  bids  a  Breton 
worship  at  any  shrine.  They  do  it  of  their  own 
free  will,  and,  though  a  churchman  always  offi- 
ciates at  the  great  pardons  and  festivals,  the 
worshippers  themselves  are  as  much  the  per- 
formers of  the  ceremony  as  the  priest. 

In  Brittany  to-day  the  piece  of  money  which 
passes  current  in  most  transactions,  though  in 
numbers  it  is  infrequently  handled  by  the  trav- 
eller, is  la  piece,  the  half-franc  or  ten-sous  coin. 

It  is  confusing  when  you  are  bargaining  for 
a  carriage  to  drive  to  some  wayside  shrine, 
to  be  told  the  price  will  be  "  deux  pieces/7  when 
—  in  Normandy  —  you  have  just  formed  the 
habit  of  realizing  offhand  that  deux  cent  sous  is 
the  same  thing  as  ten  francs.  It's  all  very 
simple,  when  one  knows  what  they  are  talking 
about,  and  the  Breton  likes  still  to  think  his 


Manners  and  Customs 77 

institutions  are  different  from  those  of  the  rest 
of  France,  and  so  he  goes  on  bargaining  in 
pieces,  when  in  other  parts  they  are  counting 
in  sous,  which  is  even  more  confusing,  or  in 
francs. 

Most  of  the  farmhouses  of  Brittany  are  con- 
structed of  stone  and  wood,  with  their  roofs 
covered  with  a  straw  thatch.  Of  course  this 
is  a  dangerous  style  of  building  to-day,  as  the 
authorities  admit.  Indeed  a  decree  has  gone 
forth  in  some  parts  forbidding  the  erection  of 
any  new  straw-thatched  building,  and  again 
in  other  parts  against  using  any  structure  so 
built  as  a  dwelling-house.  The  law  is  not  abso- 
lutely observed,  but  it  is  by  no  means  a  dead 
letter,  and  the  homely  and  picturesque  thatched 
roof  has  now  all  but  disappeared,  except  from 
the  open  country. 

To  enter  the  Breton  peasant's  farmhouse, 
one  almost  invariably  descends  a  step.  The 
interior  is  badly  lighted,  and  worse  ventilated, 
but,  as  it  is  mostly  the  open-air  life  that  the 
peasant  and  his  family  lead,  perhaps  this  does 
not  so  much  matter.  Usually  the  house  is  com- 
posed of  but  one  room,  with  a  floor  of  hard- 
trodden  earth.  This  is  the  dining-room, 
kitchen,  and  bedroom  of  all  the  family.  The 
ceiling  is  composed  of  great  rough-hewn  raft- 


78 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


ers,  sometimes  even  of  trunks  left  with  the 
bark  on,  and  from  it  are  hung  the  knives  and 
forks  and  dishes,  as  in  a  ship's  cabin. 

Furniture  has  been  reduced  to  the  most  sim- 
ple formula.     Two  or  three  great  closed  and 


fk 


Young  Bretons 

panelled  beds  or  bunks  line  one  side  of  the  wall, 
with  perhaps  a  wardrobe,  where  the  "  Sunday- 
best  ' '  of  the  whole  household  is  kept.  Beneath 
the  great  beds  is  a  series  of  oaken  chests, 
and  there  the  household  linen  is  stored.  These, 
with  a  long  table,  with  a  bench  and  a  wide  pas- 


Manners  and  Customs  79 

sage  on  either  side,  the  great,  yawning  fire- 
place, with  its  crane  and  the  inevitable  highly 
polished  pots  and  pans,  form  the  furnishings 
of  this  remarkable  apartment.  All  this  is 
homely  and  strange,  but  it  is  comfortable 
enough  for  the  occupants,  if  one  does  not  mind 
being  crowded,  and  it  is  the  typical  dwelling 
throughout  Brittany. 

Everywhere  in  the  Breton  country  one  sees 
oxen,  cattle,  and,  above  all,  the  horses  of  the 
indefatigable  Breton  race,  "  ready  and  willing 
to  work  and  full  of  spirit  in  warfare/'  So 
said  Eugene  Sue,  and  the  same  observation 
holds  true  to-day.  None  of  the  animals  are  so 
large  or  so  fat  as  in  the  neighbouring  provinces, 
but  this  is  not  because  of  malnutrition  or  be- 
cause they  are  ill-tended.  The  cows  of  Brit- 
tany are  by  no  means  such  plump,  dainty  ani- 
mals as  the  cows  of  the  Cotentin,  and  the  Bre- 
ton horses  are  certainly  undersized  when  com- 
pared to  the  Norman  sires  and  the  great-footed 
Percherons,  but  one  and  all  possess  good  qual- 
ities purely  their  own,  and  one  thing  above  all 
should  be  noted,  —  Brittany  is  exceedingly  rich 
grazing  country,  if  not  agricultural. 

Much  of  the  local  character  is  shown  in  the 
dress  of  the  people,  and  throughout  the  coun- 
try-side and  the  seacoast  villages  alike  both 


80 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


Manners  and  Customs 


81 


men  and  women  show  that  remarkable  attention 
to  dress  which  marks  the  strong  individuality 
of  the  race,  —  individuality  which  has  come 
down  through  the  ages,  and  endures  to  this 


LACOIFFE. 
POLKA  -^ 
Jrv5e  Smallest 
Coiffe  in. 
73  r  it*  any 


R.McM-  <5or 


day  in  very  nearly,  if  not  quite  all,  its  original 
aspect.  One  knows  this  dress  through  photo- 
graphic reproductions,  and  from  having  occa- 
sionally seen  it  on  the  comic  opera  stage,  but 
actually  to  live  among  such  picturesquely 
dressed  folk  is  like  a  step  back  into  the  past. 


82  Rambles  in  Brittany 

The  costumes  of  Brittany  are  greatly  varied, 
but  all  look  theatrical,  and  many  of  them 
are  remarkably  embroidered  in  multicoloured 
braid.  On  all  great  occasions,  feast-days  and 
fairs,  on  Sundays  and  on  the  days  of  the  par- 
dons, many  ancient  costumes,  not  modern  re- 
productions, are  seen.  Particularly  is  this  to 
be  noted  at  Pont  l'Abbe,  Pont  Aven,  and  else- 
where in  the  far  west.  The  coifs  of  the  women 
and  the  embroidered  waistcoats  and  velvet-rib- 
boned hats  of  the  men  mark  them  as  a  species 
of  Frenchmen  different  from  their  Norman 
brethren ;  lovers  of  fanciful  dress  and  customs 
quite  Southern  in  gorgeousness,  and  not  the 
least  like  the  colder  fashions  of  other  dwellers 
in  the  same  latitude. 

At  Quimper  is  an  interesting  Ethnological 
Museum,  where  one  may  study  the  subject  at 
length,  and  in  the  town  one  may  buy  fabrics 
and  stuffs  and  articles  of  wearing  apparel  fash- 
ioned in  the  genuine  Breton  manner. 

The  greatest  activity  of  life  in  Brittany  is 
in  the  coast  towns,  for  there  the  populace  has 
for  the  longest  time  been  in  touch  with  the 
ideas  of  an  advanced  civilization. 

By  the  very  geographic  position  of  Brittany 
this  was  inevitable,  as  the  country  was  not  in 
the  direct  path  of  any  great  current  of  com- 


Manners  and  Customs 


83 


merce,  and  had  no  great  navigable  river,  ex- 
cept the  Loire,  which  bordered  it  upon  the 


.^..,.1  'I  III    n  III11'1'1     llM(lM|i|| 

OIFFE.S  "'   > 


Ironing    Coifs 


south.  There  had  been  malicious  critics  of 
things  Breton  before  him,  but  there  could  have 
been  no  real  justification  for  the  lament  of 
Paul  St.  Victor,  who  must  have  had  an  exceed- 


84  Rambles  in  Brittany 

ingly  bad  dinner  at  his  inn  when  he  delivered 
himself  of  the  following: 

"  Breton  dialect  is  full  of  barbarisms,  and 
Brittany  is  not  even  a  healthy  country  for 
painters.  It  is  a  land  of  monasteries  and  dull 
routine;  the  same  types  and  the  same  cos- 
tumes; no  men,  no  women,  all  Bretons,  all  of 
Brittany." 

As  a  race,  the  Breton  may  well  be  summed 
up  as  follows :  They  are  the  descendants  of 
the  men  of  a  primitive  epoch,  from  whom  they 
inherit  traits  which  even  time  has  not  entirely 
eradicated.  Their  intuitions  are  correct,  and 
their  convictions  profound ;  their  will  tenacious, 
and  their  energies  equal  to  all  that  may  be 
demanded  of  them.  They  are  proud,  truthful, 
courageous,  intrepid,  hospitable,  and  religious. 

The  manufacturing  industry  throughout  Brit- 
tany is  practically  null,  if  one  except  the  work 
of  the  great  arsenals  and  ship-building  ports, 
and  the  production  of  such  articles  of  local 
consumption  as   sail-cloth. 

Flax  and  hemp  are  grown  in  considerable 
quantities,  but  the  ordinary  crops  of  cereals 
rise  to  nothing  like  the  proportions  of  those 
reared  in  Normandy  or  Perche.  The  Breton 
is  strong  on  bee-keeping,  however,  and  keenly 
watches  the  busy  workers  of  his  hives  as  they 


Manners  and  Customs 


£ 


aq 


gather  their  harvest  from  the  abundant  crop 
of  wild  flowers  covering  the  hillsides. 


86  Rambles  in  Brittany 

The  Breton  communes  are  of  vast  extent 
compared  with  those  of  other  parts  of  France, 
but  the  population  is  scattered.  Gathered 
around  the  parish  church  are  the  dwellings  of 
the  market-towns  of  three,  four,  or  five  hun- 
dred inhabitants  or  more.  Upon  the  whole, 
Brittany  is  not  thinly  peopled,  the  mean  of  its 
population  exceeding  that  of  most  of  the  other 
provinces  of  France.  Whatever  the  aborigines 
were,  whether  of  Indo-Germanique  type  or  of 
a  species  hitherto  unplaced,  the  present  Breton 
population  has  been  developed  along  lines  close 
to  those  of  Britain.  And  the  Bretons  are  not 
far  behind,  and  herein  undoubtedly  lies  the 
charm  of  Brittany  for  the  English-speaking 
traveller. 

Writing  of  his  stay  at  Guingamp,  —  which 
is  about  the  dividing  line  where  one  passes  from 
the  zone  of  the  French  tongue  to  that  of  the 
Breton,  where  one  is  frequently  to  hear  the 
short  exclamation,  "  I  do  not  understand  you, ' ' 
—  Arthur  Young  tells  us  of  putting  up  at  a 
roadside  inn  ' '  where  the  hangings  over  his  bed 
were  full  of  cobwebs  and  spiders.' '  The  inn- 
keeper remarked  to  him  that  he  had  ' '  a  superb 
English  mare, ' '  and  wished  to  buy  it  from  him. 
"  I  gave  him  half  a  dozen  flowers  of  French 
eloquence  for  his  impertinence,"  said  the  witty 


Manners  and  Customs  87 

traveller,  "  when  he  thought  proper  to  leave 
me  and  my  spiders  in  peace.' '  "  Apropos  of 
the  breed  of  horses  in  Lower  Brittany, ' '  he  con- 
tinues, "  they  are  capital  hunters,  and  yet  my 
ordinary  little  English  mare  was  much  admired, 
while  every  stable  round  about  is  filled  with  a 
pack  of  these  little  pony  stallions  sufficient  to 
perpetuate  the  local  breed  for  long  to  come." 

To  the  humble  inn  —  one  of  the  regular  post- 
ing-houses on  the  great  highroad  from  Paris 
to  Brest  —  he  is  not  so  complimentary.  ' '  This 
villainous  hole/'  said  he,  "  which  calls  itself  a 
great  house,  is  the  best  inn  of  the  town,  at  which 
marshals  of  France,  dukes,  peers,  countesses, 
and  so  forth,  must  now  and  then,  by  the  acci- 
dents to  which  long  journeys  are  subject,  have 
found  themselves.  What  are  we  to  think  of 
a  country  that  has  made,  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, no  better  provision  for  its  travellers?  " 
In  this  our  author  was  clearly  a  faultfinder, 
or  at  least  he  was  unfortunate  in  not  living  at 
a  later  day,  for  the  above  is  certainly  not  true 
of  the  inns  of  France  to-day,  though  it  may 
truthfully  be  said  that,  even  to-day,  the  inns 
of  Brittany  are  a  little  backward,  but  it  is  not 
true  of  the  Hotel  de  France  at  G-uingamp,  which 
has  even  a  dark  room  for  the  kodaker,  and  a 
fosse  for  the  motor-car  traveller. 


CHAPTER    VII. 


THE   FISHEKIES 


What  the  cider-apple  crop  is  to  Normandy, 
that  the  fisheries  are  to  Brittany,  and  more,  for 
the  fisheries  turn  over  more  money  by  far  than 
the  cider  of  Normandy,  which  is  grown  purely 
for  home  consumption.  The  Breton  young  per- 
son of  the  male  sex  takes  to  the  sea  in  the  little 
pilchard-boats,  the  three-masters  of  the  deep- 
sea  fishery,  or  the  whalers,  for  the  purpose  of 
earning  his  livelihood,  and  also  to  secure  a  pre- 
scribed term  of  exemption  from  military  or 
naval  service.  With  such  an  object,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  the  industry  employs  so  many 
hands,  and  has  become  so  important  and  con- 
siderable in  its  returns.  Of  course  the  geo- 
graphical position  of  the  country  has  more  than 
a  little  to  do  with  this,  and  also  the  stony  soil 
of  the  country-side,  suggesting  the  harvest  of 
the  sea  as  a  more  ample  crop. 

In  Brittany,  the  sea  nourishes  the  land, 
though  perhaps  but  meagrely 

88 


Doitarnenez 


The  Fisheries  89 


From  the  mouth  of  the  Loire,  around  Finis- 
tere  to  Lannion,  thousands  upon  thousands  of 
the  inhabitants  live  by  the  harvest  of  the  sea, 
whereas,  if  it  were  not  for  this,  they  might 
be  forced  to  emigrate,  or  to  hie  themselves  to 
the  large  towns,  there  to  herd  in  unsanitary 
quarters,  which  is  worse. 

The  pilchard  fishery  is  practically  at  its  best 
directly  off  the  Quiberon  peninsula,  opposite 
Lorient  and  Concarneau.  It  is  important  also 
just  offshore  from  Audierne,  Douarnenez,  and 
Camaret. 

It  is  well  to  recall  just  what  the  sardine  really 
is,  inasmuch  as  we  mostly  buy  any  "  little  fishes 
boiled  in  oil,"  which  a  pushful  grocer  may 
thrust  upon  us.  The  "  corporal's  stripe,"  or 
the  "  cavalry  corporal,"  as  the  sardine  is 
known  in  France,  is  quite  a  different  species 
from  the  "  armed  policeman,"  or  common  sea- 
garden  herring.  The  Atlantic,  the  North  Sea, 
the  Baltic,  and  some  parts  of  the  Mediterranean 
are  its  home.  It  winters  between  50  degrees 
and  60  degrees  north  latitude,  in  a  zone  where 
the  temperature  is  constant,  but  from  March 
to  October  it  emigrates  toward  the  north. 
Sometimes  the  future  sardines  are  known  as 
pilchards ;  on  the  coasts  of  Normandy  and  Pi- 
cardy  as  hareng  de  Bergues;    as  sardines  in 


90  Rambles  in  Brittany 

Brittany;  as  royan  in  Charente;  and  as  sarda 
and  sardinyola  in  the  Pyrenees  Orientales. 

The  best  and  most  common  method  of  pre- 
serving the  sardine  is  by  slightly  heating  the 
oil  before  placing  it  with  the  fish  in  those  little 
tin  boxes  known  the  world  over ;  then  the  boxes 
are  soldered  and  put  into  a  double  boiler  and 
boiled  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour,  when  the 
exceedingly  simple  process  is  finished.  So  sim- 
ple is  it,  and  so  readily  accomplished  without 
a  great  capital  investment,  that  the  wonder  is 
that  imitations  of  the  ' '  real  Brittany  sardines  ' ' 
are  not  more  successful  elsewhere.  Up  to 
this  time,  however,  nothing  rivals  the  Breton 
product. 

Each  year,  at  the  feast  of  St.  Jean,  the 
barques  set  out  from  the  various  ports,  all 
richly  decorated,  and  often  sped  on  their  way 
by  a  religious  ceremony,  at  which  a  priest  offi- 
ciates and  gives  his  blessing. 

The  profits  vary  considerably  one  year  from 
another,  as  may  be  supposed.  The  catch  is 
by  no  means  constant.  Its  ordinary  receipts 
approximate  twelve  million  francs,  and,  when  it 
drops  below  this  figure,  distress  is  likely  to 
ensue,  particularly  if  a  hard  winter  falls  upon 
Brittany,  which  in  truth  it  seldom  does. 

The  little  fish  return  each  year,  their  feeding- 


The  Fisheries  91 

ground  scarcely  varying  thirty  miles  in  any 
direction.  Thus,  in  season,  the  boats  with  their 
red  sails  and  blue  and  brown  nets  put  off  for 
the  same  spots  where  they  took  their  catches 
last  year,  only  to  find  that  the  habits  of  the 
sardines  have  not  in  the  least  changed.  Five  or 
six  men  to  a  boat  is  the  average  crew,  and,  if 
the  wind  be  contrary,  their  speed  is  much  the 
same  by  means  of  oars.  Once  arrived  on  the 
ground,  the  skipper  of  the  boat  throws  over- 
board at  intervals  some  handfuls  of  rogue  as 
a  bait;  this  is  a  paste  composed  of  the  roe  of 
the  cod,  and  the  only  drawback  is  that  its  cost 
is  great.  It  comes  mostly  from  Norway,  and, 
after  passing  through  many  intermediate  hands, 
finally  reaches  the  Breton  fisherman,  who  pays 
from  sixty  to  seventy  francs  per  hundred  kilos. 
When  the  price  rises  above  this  figure,  the  in- 
genious skipper  fabricates  a  substitute,  a  mix- 
ture of  the  real  article  and  a  local  vegetable 
product  known  as  farine  d'arachides.  Its  re- 
sults are  not  so  good  as  those  from  the  real 
article,  and  the  local  fishermen  have  a  saying 
which  is  doubtless  so  true  as  to  have  become 
a  proverb :  * '  One  must  bait  with  fish  to  catch  a 
fish. ' '  Moreover,  the  fish  caught  by  this  means 
do  not  rank  as  a  first  quality  product  in  the 
markets  of  the  Breton  fishing  ports,  owing  to 


92  Rambles  in  Brittany 

the  after-effects  on  the  fish,  which  shall  be  un- 
defined here.  It  may  be  well  to  recall  the  fact, 
however,  and,  if  you  get  a  sardine  which  is  not 
what  you  think  it  ought  to  be,  and  is  too  much 
like  a  bad  oyster,  you  may  depend  upon  it  that 
it  was  caught  with  farine  d'arachides. 

The  Breton  custom  is  to  fish  with  buoyed 
nets,  disdaining  the  drag-net,  though  occasion- 
ally the  latter  is  used. 

The  buoyed  nets  merely  scoop  the  surface  of 
the  water,  but  the  drag-nets  are  sunk  to  a  depth 
of  from  forty  to  fifty  metres.  When  the  skip- 
per estimates  that  the  net  is  full,  or,  at  least, 
that  he  shall  have  a  haul  worthy  of  his  trouble, 
all  hands,  singing  as  all  sailor-folk  do,  pull  the 
net  inboard,  and,  with  a  clever  turn,  empty 
it  of  its  freight  of  silver-scaled  fish,  which  are 
forthwith  scooped  up  and  placed  in  great  bas- 
kets. On  the  return  to  port,  the  fishermen  still 
in  harbour,  the  factory  hands,  and  all  the  in- 
habitants who  are  not  otherwise  employed,  even 
though  they  ought  to  be,  to  say  nothing  of  curi- 
ous peasant-folk  from  the  inland  towns,  and 
always  a  generous  sprinkling  of  tourists,  and 
the  inevitable  American  artist,  are  in  waiting, 
curious  as  to  the  luck. 

Here  the  dealers  come  and  bargain  for  the 
catch.    Thirty  to  thirty-five  francs  a  thousand 


The  Fisheries  93 


is  usually  the  market  price,  and  the  choic- 
est fish  naturally  sell  first.  Speculation  comes 
in  now  and  then,  and  a  scare  as  to  the  prospect 
of  the  catch  being  too  abundant  is  as  common 
and  as  disastrous  as  the  fear  that  it  may  not 
be  large  enough.  Sometimes  the  price  will 
fall  as  low  as  a  franc  and  a  half,  and  then  come 
"  trials  without  number  for  the  sailors,' '  as  an 
old  fisherman  told  the  writer.  Certainly,  if 
thirty  francs  a  thousand  be  only  a  paying  wage, 
a  franc  and  a  half  must  mean  about  the  same 
as  utter  failure  to  the  crew,  who  generally  work 
the  boat  on  shares. 

The  pilchard  fishers  have  not  forgotten  the 
crisis  of  1903,  to  combat  the  recurrence  of 
which  it  was  proposed  to  establish  special 
schools  for  fishermen  apprentices,  and  to  for- 
bid the  use  of  the  drag-net,  and  they  are  seek- 
ing a  rearrangement  of  conditions  whereby  the 
returns  may  be  more  equally  distributed  among 
the  workers  than  now.  At  the  present  time  the 
owner  —  who  fits  out  the  boat  —  claims  a  third, 
and  the  skipper  a  third,  the  hands  dividing  the 
other  third.  According  to  this  arrangement, 
the  novice  or  apprentice  receives  an  infinitesi- 
mal share. 

As  a  Frenchman,  a  Breton  of  Quimper  who 
was  not  in  the  sardine  business,  said  to  us: 


94  Rambles  in  Brittany 

'  Ces  pauvres  diables!  lis  merit eraient 
mienx."  All  of  which  is  true,  so  let  all  well- 
wishers,  who  are  fond  of  the  "  little  fishes 
boiled  in  oil  "  at  their  picnic  dinners,  give  a 
thought  now  and  again  to  the  Breton  fisherman. 

Besides  the  sardine  fisheries,  there  is  a  con- 
siderable traffic  from  such  ports  as  Treguier, 
St.  Malo,  and  Morlaix  in  the  deep-sea  fishery, 
and  elsewhere  in  the  mackerel  and  herring  fish- 
ery in  Icelandic  waters  and  the  North  Sea,  and 
these  give  a  prosperity  that  would  otherwise  be 
wanting. 

Statistics  are  dry  reading,  and  so  they  are 
not  given  here,  but  there  are  some  curious 
things  with  regard  to  the  laws  regulating  the 
offshore  and  deep-sea  fisheries  of  France,  just 
as  there  are  with  respect  to  the  line  fishing, 
by  which  method  one  can  legally  take  fish  only 
if  he  actually  hold  his  rod  or  line  in  his  hand : 
he  may  not  lay  it  on  the  ground  beside  him  and 
doze  until  an  unusually  frisky  gudgeon  wakes 
him  up. 

On  all  of  the  French  fishing-craft,  which  sail 
to  the  Banks  or  to  Iceland  for  cod,  French 
salt  must  be  used,  and  all  masters  of  fishing- 
craft  must  keep  a  supplementary  log  or  diary 
relating  to  the  takings  of  fish  alone. 

In  deep-sea  fishing  the  law  prescribes  that 


The  Fisheries  95 


a  vessel  which  is  fitted  out  for  the  fishing-banks 
must  remain  on  the  ground  a  certain  length  of 
time.  This  is  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  a 
decreasing  catch,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  as  many 
a  fisherman  has  been  known,  before  now,  to  give 
up  the  labour  with  holds  half-filled  simply  be- 
cause he  had  come  upon  a  meagre  feeding- 
ground.  It  seems  a  wise  precaution,  and  is  an- 
other of  those  parental  acts  which  the  French 
government  is  always  undertaking  on  behalf 
of  its  children.  There  is  still  the  whalebone 
catch  to  reckon  with,  for  the  French  govern- 
ment specializes  this  industry,  and  offers  a 
bonus  of  seventy  francs  a  ton  displacement 
on  leaving  port  for  all  French  equipments,  and 
fifty  francs  per  ton  displacement  upon  return- 
ing after  the  term  prescribed. 


PART  II. 


CHAPTER   I. 


THE    LOIRE    IN    BRITTANY 


At  Ancenis,  the  Loire,  that  mighty  river 
which  rises  near  the  frontier  of  Garde,  a  Medi- 
terranean department,  enters  Brittany  on  its 
way  to  the  Atlantic.  For  more  than  nine  hun- 
dred kilometres  above  this  point,  the  Loire  has 
been  navigable  for  such  fresh-water  craft  as 
usually  are  found  upon  great  waterways,  and, 
having  passed  Orleans,  Blois,  and  Tours,  and 
broadened  out  into  a  great,  wide,  shallow 
stream,  it  is  to  be  reckoned  as  one  of  the 
world's  great  rivers.  Mostly  its  appearance  is 
that  of  a  broad,  tranquil,  docile  stream,  with 
scarce  enough  depth  of  water  to  make  a  re- 
spectable current,  leaving  its  bed  with  its  bars 
of  sand  and  pebbles  bare  to  the  sky.  This  lack 
of  depth,  except  at  occasional  flood,  is  the  prin- 
cipal and  obvious  reason  for  the  comparative 
absence  of  water-borne  traffic. 

At  the  times  of  the  great  freshets  there  are 
twenty-three   feet   or  more   registered   on   the 


100  Rambles  in  Brittany 


huge  black  and  white  scale  of  the  bridge  at 
Ancenis,  and  again  it  falls  to  less  than  a  fourth 
of  that  height,  and  then  there  is  a  mere  rivulet 
of  water  trickling  through  the  broad  channel  at 
Chaumont,  at  Blois,  or  at  Orleans. 

In  the  olden  time,  as  one  passed  from  Anjou 
into  Brittany,  by  way  of  the  valley  of  the  Loire, 
he  came  to  a  great  barrier  across  the  road,  —  a 
veritable  frontier  post,  with  a  custom-house  and 
examiners,  as  if  one  were  passing  into  a  foreign 
country.  The  Bevolution  changed  all  this,  and 
now  nothing  but  another  of  that  vast  family 
of  great,  white  departmental  boundary-posts 
marks  the  dividing  line  between  the  Maine  et 
Loire  and  the  Loire-Inferieure,  the  border  de- 
partments between  the  old  province  of  the 
Counts  of  Anjou  and  that  of  the  Breton  dukes. 

Just  above  Ancenis,  one  passes  vineyard 
after  vineyard,  and  chateau  after  chateau  fol- 
lows rapidly  in  turn,  —  all  very  delightful,  as 
Pepys  would  have  said.  Not  so  the  bridge  at 
Ancenis,  quite  the  ugliest  wire-rope  affair  to 
be  seen  on  the  Loire,  and  one  is  only  too  glad 
to  leave  it  behind,  though  it  is  with  a  real  re- 
gret that  he  parts  from  Ancenis  itself. 

Ancenis  is  one  of  those  blessed  spots  posses- 
sing a  chateau;  it  is  endowed  with  a  wonder- 
fully picturesque  situation,  and,  moreover,  is 


The  Loire  in  Brittany  101 

capable  of  catering  for  the  inner  man  in  so 
satisfactory  a  manner  that  one  can  but  pnt 
it  down  in  his  books  as  one  of  the  spots  to  be 
favoured.  The  Barons  of  Ancenis  were  a  long 
and  picturesque  line,  and  their  local  fame  has 
by  no  means  perished.  The  old-time  chateau, 
constructed  in  the  fifteenth  century,  was  the 
masterwork  of  a  famous  Angevin  architect, 
Jean  Lespine  by  name.  To-day  this  fine  build- 
ing, or  what  is  left  of  it,  has  become  an  Ursu- 
line  boarding-house.  Much  is  still  left  to  tell 
the  story  of  its  former  greatness,  but  it  is  not 
so  accessible  as  one  would  like. 

The  most  that  can  be  remarked  is  a  great 
doorway  flanked  by  two  towers,  with  overpow- 
ering machicolations,  another  smaller  tower,  — 
a  tourelle,  the  French  themselves  would  call 
it,  —  and  a  ruined  pavilion,  where,  in  1468, 
Francis,  Duke  of  Brittany,  signed  a  treaty  with 
Louis  XI.  On  the  market-house  of  Ancenis  is 
superimposed  a  sort  of  a  belfry  which,  seen  in 
conjunction  with  the  low-lying  river-bank,  im- 
parts a  low-country  aspect  to  the  town.  The 
old  streets  of  Ancenis  give  shelter  to  many  fine 
mediaeval  houses,  of  which  the  most  notable  is 
perhaps  the  old  "  house  of  the  Croix  de  Lor- 
raine." 

Below  Ancenis,  navigation  is  not  so  difficult, 


102  Rambles  in  Brittany 

but  the  river  current  is  more  strong.  For  a 
long  distance,  on  the  right  bank,  extends  a  dike, 
carrying  the  roadway  beside  the  river  for  a 
matter  of  a  hundred  kilometres.  This  is  one 
of  the  charms  of  travel  by  the  Loire.  When 
you  see  any  animation  on  its  bosom,  save  an 
occasional  fishing-punt,  neither  it  nor  its  occu- 
pant usually  very  animated,  it  is  one  of  those 
great  flat-bottomed  ferry-boats,  with  a  square 
sail  hung  on  a  yard  amidships,  such  as  Turner 
always  made  an  accompaniment  to  his  Loire 
landscapes. 

Conditions  of  traffic  thereon  have  not  changed 
much  since  those  days.  Whenever  one  sees  a 
barge  or  a  boat  worthy  of  classification  with 
those  on  the  rivers  of  the  east  or  north,  or  of 
the  canals,  it  is  only  about  a  quarter  of  the 
usual  size,  so,  altogether,  in  spite  of  its  great 
navigable  length,  the  waterway  of  the  Loire  is 
more  valuable  as  a  picturesque  and  healthful 
element  of  the  landscape  than  as  a  commercial 
artery.  Below  Nantes  is  the  "  section  mari- 
time," which  from  Nantes  to  the  sea  is  a  mat- 
ter of  some  sixty  kilometres.  Here  the  boats 
increase  in  number  and  size.  They  are  known 
as  lighters,  barges,  and  tenders,  and  go  down 
with  the  river  current  and  return  on  the  incom- 
ing ebb,  for  here  the  river  is  tidal. 


The  Loire  in  Brittany  103 

From  this  one  gathers  that  the  Loire,  so 
noble  and  magnificent,  is  the  most  aristocratic 
river  of  France,  and  so,  too,  it  is  with  respect 
to  its  associations  of  the  past. 

It  has  not  the  grandeur  of  the  Rhone  when 
the  spring  freshets  from  the  Jura  and  the  Swiss 
lakes  have  filled  it  to  its  banks;  and  it  has 
not  the  burning  activity  of  the  Seine,  as  it  bears 
its  thousands  of  boat-loads  of  produce  and  mer- 
chandise to  and  from  market;  it  has  not  the 
prettiness  of  the  Thames,  or  the  legendary  as- 
pect of  the  Ehine;  but,  in  a  way,  it  combines 
something  of  the  features  of  all,  and  has,  in 
addition,  a  tone  that  is  all  its  own,  as  it  sweeps 
the  horizon  through  its  countless  miles  of  ample 
curves,  and  holds  within  its  embrace  all  that 
is  best  of  mediaeval  and  Renascence  France, 
the  period  which  built  up  the  later  monarchy 
and  —  who  shall  say  not  ?  —  the  present  pros- 
perous nation. 

The  Loire  is  essentially  a  river  of  other  days. 
Truly,  as  Mr.  James  has  said,  "  it  is  the  very 
model  of  a  generous,  beneficent  stream.  ...  A 
wide  river  which  you  may  follow  by  a  wide 
road  is  excellent  company.' '  The  Frenchman 
himself  is  more  flowery.  "It  is  the  noblest 
river  of  France.  Its  basin  is  immense,  magnifi- 
cent.'J    All  of  which  is  true,  too.    For  a  good 


104  Rambles  in  Brittany 

bit  of  local  colour  of  this  region,  one  should 
read  Chapter  V.  of  "  The  Regent 's  Daughter, ' ' 
by  Dumas,  wherein  the  willing  Gaston,  in  the 
midday  sunshine  of  a  winter's  day,  made  his 
way  from  Nantes  to  Paris,  "  travelling  slowly 
as  far  as  Oudon  opposite  Champtoceaux. ' ' 
1 '  At  Oudon  he  halted  and  put  up  at  the  Char- 
Couronne,  an  inn  with  windows  overlooking  the 
highroad.' '  Some  stirring  events  took  place 
here,  but  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  pages  of 
Dumas  for  the  details. 

Oudon,  however,  will  not  detain  the  cursory 
traveller  of  to-day,  even  if  he  deigns  to  visit 
it  at  all. 

Champtoceaux,  on  the  other  hand,  though 
only  a  small  town  of  thirteen  hundred  inhab- 
itants, does  awaken  interest.  Formerly  it  be- 
longed to  the  Counts  of  Anjou,  and  then  to  the 
Dukes  of  Brittany. 

Its  site  is  most  picturesque;  it  stands  on  a 
mound  some  two  hundred  feet  above  the  Loire. 
There  are  two  fine  mediaeval  churches,  and  an 
old  chateau,  which,  with  the  ruins  of  the  an- 
cient fortified  castle,  now  forms  a  part  of  the 
domain  of  a  M.  de  la  Touche,  who  will  kindly 
permit  the  visitor  to  inspect  the  details  of  this 
ancient  feudal  stronghold. 

The  dismantled  old  walls  are  covered  with 


The  Loire  in  Brittany  105 


moss  and  lichens,  and  their  picturesqueness  is 
of  that  quality  that  painters  love  to  put  on  can- 
vas. The  wonder  is  that  Champtoceaux  has 
not  become  a  new  artists'  sketching-ground, 
such  as  are  so  often  discovered  —  or  rediscov- 
ered—  throughout  France.  Perhaps  it  is  be- 
cause of  its  distance  from  Paris,  for  your  artist- 
painter,  be  he  French,  English,  or  American, 
dearly  loves  the  streets  of  the  Latin  Quarter, 
and,  as  a  rule,  prefers  Fontainebleau  and  its 
circle  of  artist  colonies  to  going  farther  afield. 

At  last  one  beholds  what  a  Frenchman  has 
called  the  "  tumultuous  vision  of  Nantes."  To- 
day the  very  ancient  and  historic  city  which 
grew  up  from  the  Portus  Nannetum  and  the 
Condivientum  of  the  Romans  is  indeed  a  veri- 
table tumult  of  chimneys,  masts  and  smoke- 
stacks, and  locomotives.  But  all  this  will  not 
detract  one  jot  from  its  reputation  of  being 
one  of  the  most  delightful  of  provincial  capi- 
tals, and  the  smoke  and  activity  of  its  port  only 
tend  to  accentuate  the  note  of  colour,  which 
in  the  whole  itinerary  of  the  Loire  has  been  but 
pale. 

The  former  reputation  of  Nantes  as  a  little 
capital  where  gaiety  and  wealth  came  in  abun- 
dance is  correct  for  to-day,  but  a  comparison 
is  interesting.     Here  is  a  reminiscence  of  old 


106  Rambles  in  Brittany 


stage-coaching  days,  when  the  post  took  four 
days  to  make  the  journey  from  Paris : 

"  The  neighbourhood  of  the  theatre  is  mag- 
nificent, all  the  streets  being  at  right  angles 
and  of  white  stone.  One  is  in  doubt  as  to 
whether  the  Hotel  Henri  IV.  is  not  the  finest 
inn  in  Europe."  (It  must  have  disappeared 
since  those  days,  but  really  its  reputation  still 
lives  in  any  one  of  the  three  leading  hotels.) 
"  Dessein's  "  (also  disappeared)  "  at  Calais 
is  larger,  but  is  not  built,  fitted  up,  or  furnished 
like  this,  which  is  new.  It  cost  nearly  five  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  and  contains  sixty  bed- 
rooms. It  is  without  comparison  the  first  inn 
of  France,  and  very  cheap  withal. 

' '  The  theatre  must  have  cost  a  like  sum,  and, 
when  its  seats  are  full,  holds  120  louis  d'or. 
The  ground  that  the  inn  is  built  upon  cost  nine 
francs  a  foot,  and  elsewhere  in  the  city  one  may 
pay  as  much  as  fifteen  francs.  This  ground 
value  induces  them  to  build  so  high  as  to  be 
destructive  of  beauty."  Unquestionably  this 
last  observation  was  quite  true  then,  as  it  is 
now,  but  Nantes  nevertheless  fills  very  nearly 
every  qualification  of  a  well-laid-out  and  at- 
tractive city. 

To  some  Nantes  will  be  reminiscent  of  Ven- 
ice, or  at  least  some  Dutch  city,  for  its  five 


The  Loire  in  Brittany 107 

river  branches  are  continually  crossing  and 
recrossing  one's  path  in  most  bewildering  fash- 
ion, and  bridges  confront  one  at  every  turn. 

The  city's  attractions  are  many,  from  its 
great  cathedral  and  its  chateau-fortress,  enclos- 
ing a  beautiful  edifice  wherein  once  lived  the 
Duchess  Anne,  to  its  great  hotels,  cafes,  and 
shops  of  modern  times. 

Five  great  events  of  history  stand  forth 
prominent  in  the  memory  of  the  very  name  of 
Nantes:  the  struggle  of  John  of  Montfort 
against  Charles  of  Blois  for  the  ducal  power; 
the  affairs  of  the  League;  the  famous  Edict; 
the  Cellamare  conspiracy;  and  the  rising  of 
the  Vendeans  and  the  rascally  Carrier's  retal- 
iation in  Revolutionary  days. 

Each  and  every  one  of  these  were  vivid  and 
bloody  enough  to  furnish  inexhaustible  mate- 
rial for  a  novelist  of  the  Dumas  school,  should 
he  rise  in  the  future,  for  the  half  has  not  yet 
been  used.  It  was  in  the  Place  of  Bouffay  that 
that  execution  of  the  Breton  conspirators  took 
place,  of  which  we  read  in  the  graphic  pages 
of  Dumas.  Gaston,  who  sought  to  deliver  his 
former  companions,  was  posting  along  the  road 
to  Nantes  with  their  reprieve  safely  guarded. 
Before  the  age  of  steam  and  electricity,  news 
travelled  slowly,  and  Sevres,  Versailles,  Ram- 


108  Rambles  in  Brittany 

bouillet,  Chartres,  Mans,  and  Angers  were  then 
far  apart.  But  the  faithful  Gaston  travelled 
fast,  one  of  the  bystanders  at  Rambouillet 
calling  to  him:  "  If  you  go  at  that  pace,  you 
will  kill  more  than  one  team  between  here  and 
Nantes. ' ' 

Gradually  he  learned  that  a  "  courier  of  the 
minister's  "  had  passed  that  way.  This  was 
the  beginning  of  what  Dumas  called  the  ' '  trag- 
edy of  Nantes."  The  event  was  historical,  and 
Dumas 's  account  was  most  dramatic,  yet  did 
not  differ  greatly  from  the  facts.  Gaston  ar- 
rived too  late.  Talhouet  was  dead,  and  the 
Place  of  Bouffay  reeked  with  the  blood  of  the 
conspirators,  who,  guilty  though  they  were,  had 
received  the  pardon  of  the  Regent.  The  cry 
of  De  Conedic,  as  he  bent  his  head  to  the  block, 
still  echoes  down  through  history:  "  See  how 
they  recompense  the  services  of  faithful  sol- 
diers! Ye  cowards  of  Bretagne,"  he  cried,  as 
the  sword  of  the  executioner  fell  upon  him. 
Ten  minutes  afterward  the  square  was  empty. 
One  of  the  corpses  still  held  a  crumpled  paper 
in  his  hand,  —  it  was  the  pardon  of  the  other 
four,  for  the  bearer  had  arrived  too  late.  Thus 
finished  "  the  tragedy  of  Nantes." 

Though  this  part  of  Brittany  has  the  repu- 
tation of  being  the  least  illiterate  of  any,  as  late 


The  Loire  in  Brittany  109 

as  the  beginning  of  the  last  quarter  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  might  be  seen  at  Nantes  the 
sign  of  the  public  scrivener,  which  read: 


tfCRIVAIN   PUBLIQUE 

10  centimes  par  lettre 


Below  Nantes  the  Loire  basin  has  turned 
the  surrounding  country  into  a  little  Hol- 
land, where  fisherfolk  and  their  boats,  with 
sails  of  red  and  blue,  form  charming  sympho- 
nies of  dull  colour.  In  the  drinking-places 
along  its  shores  there  is  a  strange  medley  of 
peasants,  seafarers,  and  fisher  men  and  women. 
Not  so  cosmopolitan  a  crew  as  one  sees  in  the 
harbour-side  drinking-places  at  Marseilles,  or 
even  at  Havre,  but  sufficiently  strange  to  be  a 
fascination  to  one  who  has  just  come  down 
from  the  headwaters. 

Gray  and  green  is  the  aspect  at  the  Loire's 
source,  and  green  and  gray  it  still  is,  though 
of  a  decidedly  different  colour  value,  at  St. 
Nazaire,  below  Nantes,  the  real  deep-water 
port  of  the  Loire.  By  this  time  the  river  has 
amplified  itself  into  a  broad  estuary,  and  is  lost 
in  the  incoming  and  outgoing  tides  of  the  Bay 
of  Biscay.     From  its   source   the  Loire  has 


110  Rambles  in  Brittany 

wound  its  way  gently,  broadly,  and  with  placid 
grandeur  through  rocky  escarpments,  fertile 
plains,  populous  and  luxurious  towns,  all  his- 
toric ground,  by  stately  chateaux  and  through 
vineyards  and  fruit-orchards.  Now  it  becomes 
more  or  less  prosaic  and  matter  of  fact,  though, 
in  a  way,  no  less  interesting,  as  it  takes  on  some 
of  the  attributes  of  the  outside  world. 

Here  one  gives  the  last  glance  to  the  Loire, 
as  an  inland  waterway,  for,  by  the  time  Nantes 
is  passed,  it  is  of  the  sea  salty.  Here  the  Sevre 
Nantaise  comes  from  the  Department  Deux- 
Sevres  and  numerous  other  streams  broaden 
the  lower  river  until  it  meets  the  bay  at  St. 
Nazaire,  where  coasters  and  deep-sea  fisher- 
men take  the  place  of  boat-haulers  and  vine- 
yard-workers as  picturesque  accessories  to  the 
landscape. 

Jacobites  and  their  sympathizers  will  take 
pleasure  in  noting  that  it  was  in  the  early  days 
of  St.  Nazaire's  importance  as  a  port  that  the 
Young  Pretender  set  sail  thence  in  1745,  in  a 
frigate  provided  by  a  Mr.  Walsh  of  Nantes. 

It  is  only  now  that  one  realizes  to  the  full 
the  gamut  through  which  run  the  varying  moods 
of  the  Loire,  from  the  hard,  sterile  lands 
around  Le  Puy  through  the  pleasant  Nivernais, 
the  Orleanais,  the  vineyards  of  Saumur,  to  the 


The  Loire  in  Brittany  111 

Sardinieres  and  the  salt  works  of  the  marshes 
of  Bourg  de  Batz  and  Croisic. 

It  was  from  Croisic  that  Talhouet,  one  of 
the  Breton  conspirators  of  "  The  Regent's 
Daughter/ '  threatened  to  set  sail  if  discovered 
in  their  dastardly  plot  against  the  Regent. 

"  I  shall  be  off  to  St.  Nazaire,"  said  he, 
"  and  from  thence  to  Croisic;  take  my  advice 
and  come  with  me.  I  know  a  brig  about  to 
start  for  Newfoundland,  and  the  captain  is  a 
servant  of  mine.  If  the  air  on  shore  become 
too  bad,  we  will  embark,  set  sail,  and  adieu 
to  the  galleys."  "  Well,  I  for  one,"  said  his 
companion,  "am  a  Breton,  and  Bretons  trust 
only  in  God." 

South  of  the  Loire,  in  that  small  fragment 
of  territory  which  formerly  belonged  to  the 
old  province,  is  a  wonderful  collection  of  old- 
time  and  gone-to-seed  towns  hardly  ever  vis- 
ited by  the  general  run  of  tourists. 

Paimboeuf  and  Pornic  and  Clisson  are  the 
three  places  which  appeal  most  strongly,  and 
this  chiefly  by  their  accessibility  to  Nantes.  To 
the  southwest  is  the  Lake  of  Grand  Lieu,  which, 
according  to  an  ancient  Armorican  legend,  was 
the  former  site  of  a  city  "  flourishing,  but  dis- 
solute," which  was  submerged  for  its  sins  by 


112  Rambles  in  Brittany 

the  command  of  God.  This  sounds  apocryphal, 
but  the  moral  is  plain. 

Anciently  the  Ketz  country,  lying  just  south- 
ward of  the  Loire,  formed  a  part  of  the  ancient 
Breton  province,  and,  although  before  the  Rev- 
olution and  the  rearrangement  of  provinces 
and  departments  anew  this  member  had  been 
shorn  away,  yet  Paimboeuf,  on  the  south  bank 
of  the  Loire,  just  beyond  Nantes,  is  of  Breton 
nomenclature,  known  in  French  as  Tete  de 
Boeuf.  To-day  it  is  but  a  relic  of  a  former 
great  port,  now  deserted;  St.  Nazaire,  its 
younger  relative,  with  much  more  ample  com- 
mercial resources,  has  drawn  its  trade  away, 
and  its  quays  and  docks  are  now  unoccupied, 
except  by  coasters  and  fishing-boats. 

Paimboeuf  has  already  become  depopulated, 
and  the  former  little  fishing  port  of  Pornic 
daily  takes  on  more  and  more  importance. 

Pornic  itself  has  a  charm  which  Paimboeuf 
entirely  lacks.  It  is  a  lively  little  fishing  village 
of  perhaps  two  thousand  inhabitants.  The 
port,  the  bay,  and  the  canal  which  empties  into 
the  salt  waters  of  the  Atlantic  form  a  delightful 
setting  for  artists'  foregrounds,  let  the  back- 
grounds be  what  they  may.  At  present,  it  has 
taken  on  somewhat  of  the  aspect  of  a  watering- 
place,  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  it  will  never 


The  Loire  in  Brittany 


113 


become  popular  as  such,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  a  casino  has  already  made  its  appear- 
ance. 

In  addition  to  the  charm  of  its  situation,  the 
chief  attraction  of  Pornic  is  its  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  century  chateau,  with  its  fine  towers 
and  machicolations.     Its  history,  like  that  of 


j^ 


Pornic 


most  others  of  its  kind,  has  been  romantic,  and 
by  no  means  has  it  always  had  the  placid  aspect 
which  it  has  to-day.  It  was  taken  from  Gilles 
de  Retz  by  the  Dukes  of  Brittany  during  the 
civil  wars,  and  to-day  belongs  to  a  M.  de  Bour- 
quency,  who  has  restored  it  admirably. 

At  the  foot  of  the  chateau  is  a  great  cross 
of  stone,  called  the  Croix  of  the  Huguenots, 
erected,  it  is  said,  by  converted  Calvinists.    At 


114  Rambles  in  Brittany 

the  foot  of  this  cross  are  buried  the  bones  of 
over  two  hundred  Vendeans  killed  at  Pornic. 

Clisson  is  a  small  town  of  something  less  than 
three  thousand  inhabitants,  whose  very  name 
will  conjure  up  memories  of  the  great  Con- 
stable Olivier  de  Clisson.  There  is  much  here 
of  interest,  but  the  history  of  the  town,  the 
chateau,  and  of  De  Clisson  himself  are  so  in- 
terwoven with  the  affairs  of  state  and  warfare 
of  the  nation  that  the  outline  even  may  not  be 
given  here.  The  ruins  of  the  old-time  chateau 
are  a  wonderfully  impressive  reminder  of 
other  days,  other  ways.  As  a  whole,  it  is  a 
grand  ruin  only,  although  an  architect  or  ar- 
chaeologist may  build  up  somewhat  of  an  ap- 
proach to  the  former  glorious  fabric.  The 
great  central  tower  has  not  even  preserved  its 
walls  entire,  but  what  is  left  stands  to-day  as 
one  of  the  most  imposing  examples  of  a  great 
feudal  keep  yet  extant.  Clisson  has  some  right 
to  be  considered  up  to  date,  in  that  some  enter- 
prising inhabitant  has  introduced  an  electric- 
light  plant.  In  spite  of  this,  however,  the  don- 
jon is  one  of  those  architectural  splendours  of 
the  world  which,  like  the  Coliseum  at  Borne  and 
Melrose  Abbey,  should  be  seen  by  moonlight 
in  order  to  be  rightly  appreciated. 

The  chapel,  in  which  was  celebrated  the  mar- 


Donjon  of  Clisson 


The  Loire  in  Brittany  115 


riage  of  Duke  Francis  II.  and  Margaret  of 
Foix,  the  keep,  the  dungeons,  the  ramparts,  and 
the  chief  apartments  occupied  by  the  constable 
himself  have  been  preserved,  and  make  Clisson 
well  worth  the  half-day  it  will  take  to  go  there 
from  Nantes. 


CHAPTER   II. 

NANTES   TO   VANNES 

Next  to  Marseilles,  Nantes  is  the  finest  pro- 
vincial capital  of  France.  This  may  be  dis- 
puted, but  it  is  the  opinion  of  the  writer. 

Perhaps  it  is  because  of  the  glorious  part 
that  the  city  played  in  the  past  to  preserve  its 
independence,  and  the  independence  of  Brit- 
tany, succumbing  only  with  the  second  marriage 
of  Queen  Anne ;  but,  for  some  reason,  the  links 
that  bind  it  with  the  past  have  never  grown 
rusty,  nor  have  modern  cosmopolitan  charac- 
teristics destroyed  the  individuality  of  the 
Breton. 

The  situation  doubtless  has  much  to  do  with 
the  air  of  geniality  which  pervades  the  city. 
When  the  Loire  glistens  under  the  caressing 
rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and  the  roof-tops  of 
the  town  are  all  of  a  reddened  gold,  Nantes 
might  indeed  be  even  now  the  mediaeval  capital 
that  it  was  before  the  age  of  steam  and  elec- 
tricity, which  sound  the  only  modern  notes  to 

116 


Nantes  to  Vannes  117 

be  heard  here.  At  night  the  spectacle  is  far 
more  dramatic,  with  the  streets  and  quays  lit 
by  countless  lamps;  the  subdued  murmur  of 
the  workaday  world,  now  all  but  gone  to  rest; 
for  an  occasional  shriek  from  a  locomotive  or 
a  wail  from  the  siren  of  some  great  steamer 
dropping  down-river  with  the  tide  is  all  that 
one  hears. 

There  is  a  forest  of  masts  of  shipping,  scores 
upon  scores  of  great  chimney-stacks,  of  ship- 
houses,  of  sugar  and  oil  refineries,  and  along 
the  quay-side  streets  there  are  yet  sailors  and 
longshoremen  hanging  about  and  smoking  a 
finishing  pipe,  or  drinking  a  last  drop  of  spirit 
or  glass  of  beer.  But  all  is  "  drawing  in,"  and 
soon  all  will  be  hushed  in  silence,  and  only  the 
walls  and  towers  of  the  great  castle  and  the 
cathedral  will  keep  watch,  as  they  have  for  five 
centuries  past.  This  is  Nantes,  the  great  tra- 
ding port.  Up  in  the  town  blaze  forth  the  great 
hotels  that  would  do  credit  to  Paris,  and  yet 
are  so  different,  and  coffee-rooms  as  splendid 
and  brilliant  as  any  in  the  capital  itself,  with 
the  prices  of  the  portions  twenty  per  cent, 
less. 

They  keep  late  hours  in  this  part  of  Nantes, 
and  night  does  not  actually  fall  until  midnight, 
when,  one  by  one,  up  go  the  coffee-room  shut- 


118  Rambles  in  Brittany 

ters,  —  to  come  down  again  in  the  same  order 
between  six  and  seven  in  the  morning.  This  is 
not  bad  for  a  climate  which  on  the  Loire  ap- 
proaches almost  Mediterranean  mildness.  It  is 
a  pity  that  cold  and  anstere  England  does  not 
rise  a  little  earlier  in  the  morning.  London, 
it  is  true,  sits  up  late  enough,  but  she  makes  up 
for  it  by  dawdling  away  all  the  morning  up  to 
half-past  ten  or  eleven. 

In  spite  of  all  its  loveliness  and  gaiety, 
Nantes  is  a  city  more  ancient  than  modern,  — 
this  antique  Namnetes,  the  capital,  by  prefer- 
ence, of  the  Dukes  of  Brittany,  and  the  political 
rival  of  Rennes. 

The  old  lanes  and  crossways  of  the  middle 
ages  have  disappeared  in  making  the  spacious 
great  streets  of  our  own  time,  but  there  is  much 
left  to  remind  one  of  other  days  in  the  old 
houses  and  in  the  ever  dominant  cathedral  and 
castle. 

The  Cathedral  of  St.  Pierre  is  not  a  master- 
piece of  itself,  but  it  encloses  a  treasure  that 
may  well  be  included  in  that  category,  —  the 
tomb  of  Duke  Francis  II.  and  Margaret  of 
Foix.  The  great  harmony  of  this  composition, 
under  the  half-light  of  the  stained-glass  win- 
dows, reveals  a  charm  that  most  mausoleums 
altogether  lack.     On  a  tablet  of  white  marble 


Nantes  to  Vannes  119 

lie  the  effigies  of  the  duke  and  duchess,  with 
two  angels  kneeling  at  their  heads,  and, 
crouched  at  their  feet,  a  greyhound,  support- 
ing the  escutcheon  of  Brittany.  Four  statues, 
at  the  corners  of  the  pedestal,  symbolize 
Justice,  Strength,  Temperance,  and  Prudence. 
This  magnificent  tomb  is  justly  counted  as 
Michel  Colombe's  finest  work. 

The  castle  of  Nantes,  like  that  of  Angers,  is 
now  an  arsenal,  and  accordingly  is  less  inter- 
esting than  if  it  were  even  a  shattered  ruin.  It 
was  the  castle  of  the  dukes,  and  the  great  lodge, 
a  dainty  Renaissance  building,  with  delicately 
sculptured  window-frames  and  balconies  capri- 
ciously disposed,  gives  an  idea  of  the  comfort 
and  luxury  with  which  pervasive  Duchess  Anne 
surrounded  herself  in  the  vivid  days  when  she 
lived  at  Nantes.  Within  the  walls  of  the  castle, 
one  might  yet  see  —  were  one  allowed  to  ramble 
over  it  at  will  —  the  chambers  where  the  odi- 
ous Gilles  of  Laval,  the  Marechal  de  Raiz,  Fou- 
quet,  the  Cardinal  de  Retz,  and  the  Duchess 
de  Berri  were  imprisoned  during  the  long  years 
that  it  served  as  a  cage  for  the  political  pris- 
oners of  France.  Madame  de  Sevigne  so- 
journed here  in  1675,  so  the  sombre  and  yet 
gay  castle,  besides  having  entertained  many  of 
the  Kings  of  France,  from  Louis  XI.  onward, 


120  Rambles  in  Brittany 

has  also  somewhat  of  the  aspect  of  a  literary 
shrine. 

In  the  courtyard  is  a  great  well  with  an  ad- 
mirably worked  decorative  railing  in  wrought 
iron,  quite  worthy  to  rank  with  Quintin  Mat- 
sys's  famous  well  at  Antwerp.  The  museums 
of  painting  and  of  archaeology,  abounding  in 
rare  Breton  antiquities,  give  the  town  promi- 
nence among  the  artistic  centres  of  provincial 
France.  The  former  contains  some  fine  exam- 
ples of  the  work  of  Philippe  de  Champaigne, 
Lancret,  Watteau,  and  Theodore  Eousseau 
among  others. 

The  environs  of  Nantes  are  wonderfully  pic- 
turesque for  the  artist,  but  offer  little  for  the 
amusement  of  the  125,000  inhabitants  of  this 
city  of  affairs. 

To  the  north,  the  Erdre  winds  its  way 
through  flat  banks,  and  widens  out  here  and 
there  into  a  veritable  lake. 

From  Nantes  to  the  ocean  the  wind  blows 
more  strongly  and  the  horizon  widens;  the 
great  waterway  of  the  Loire  has  already  be- 
come practically  an  arm  of  the  sea,  and  one 
breathes  its  salt  air.  The  aspect  of  nature  now 
grows  more  and  more  melancholy  for  the  seeker 
after  gaiety  and  life ;  only  the  artist  will  revel 
in  these  dull  brown  and  gray  riverside  and  sea- 


Nantes  to  Vannes  121 

side  towns,  which  follow  the  coast-line  from 
St.  Nazaire  to  Batz,  Croisic,  and  Guerande.  It 
is  what  the  French  themselves  call  a  land  of 
grayish  twilight,  with  vast  stretches  of  marsh- 
land and  pebble-strewn  sands. 

At  the  extremity  of  the  north  bank  of  the 
Loire,  at  the  apex  of  a  bend  of  the  coast-line, 
is  the  Bay  of  Croisic  and  the  Batz  country. 

Like  a  needle  pricking  the  horizon,  the  tip 
of  the  tower  of  Croisic  marks  the  location  of 
this  sleepy  little  port  in  the  flat  and  saline 
marsh-land  round  about.  South  lie  the  light- 
house and  the  tower  of  the  ruined  church  of 
Bourg  de  Batz,  that  little  Breton  village  all  but 
isolated  from  the  mainland  itself. 

It  is  the  true  borderland  or  frontier  between 
the  sea  and  the  land,  the  one  almost  imper- 
ceptibly mingling  with  the  other.  Of  it  Jean 
Richepin  sang: 

"  Mirage  !     Sahara  !     les  Bedouins  !     Un  iWir 
Est  venu  planter  la  ses  innombrables  tentes 
Dont  les  cones  dresses  en  blanchenrs  eclatantes 
Resplendissent  parmi  les  tons  bariol^s 
De  tapis  d'Orient  sur  le  sol  etal^s ; 
Ses  cones  dont  les  tas  de  sel  sur  les  ladures, 
Et  ses  riches  tapis  aux  brillantes  bordures 
Ne  sont  que  les  Cabiers,  les  Fares,  les  (Eillets. 
On  l'evaporement  laisse  de  gros  feuillets 
M6talliques,  moires  flottant  d'or  et  de  soir. 


122  Rambles  in  Brittany 

Par  l'6tier  et  le  tour  qu'un  paludier  fossoil 
La  mer  entre,  s'epand,  s'eparpille  en  circuits, 
Puis  arrive  aux  bassins.  ..." 

"  The  sea  sells  cheap,' '  say  the  natives,  who 
are  mostly  engaged  in  the  salt  industry,  as  one 
would  infer  from  the  foregoing.  Competition 
has  cut  considerably  into  the  industry  of  recov- 
ering salt  from  the  sea-water,  but  it  is  still  kept 
up,  and  these  little  Breton  coast  villages  depend 
upon  it,  and  on  fishing,  for  their  sustenance. 

St.  Nazaire,  where  the  sea  first  meets  the 
waters  of  the  Loire,  is  quite  new,  created  but 
yesterday  by  the  march  of  progress.  Tradi- 
tion connects  the  site  of  this  busy  port  —  the 
seventh  in  rank  among  the  ports  of  France  — 
with  the  ancient  Gallo-Roman  port  of  Corbilon. 
No  trace  of  its  former  appellation  exists  since 
the  sixth  century,  when  Gregory  of  Tours,  in 
the  first  history  of  France,  mentions  the  settle- 
ment as  having  been  pillaged  by  a  Breton  chief, 
and  refers  to  it  as  Vic-Saint-Nazaire,  which 
nearly  approaches  its  present  name. 

In  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  the 
market-town  was  called  Port  Nazaire,  and  was 
defended  by  a  castle  erected  by  the  Dukes  of 
Brittany. 

Modern  navigation  has  replaced  the  old  sail- 
ing-vessels, and  to-day,  with  its  coastwise  and 


Nantes  to  Vannes 


123 


124  Rambles  in  Brittany 

foreign  trade  and  its  great  shipyards,  St.  Na- 
zaire  is  a  busy,  bustling  town.  The  blemish 
it  has,  in  the  eyes  of  most,  will  be  its  general 
aspect  of  modernity  and  its  uncompromising, 
right-angled,  straight  streets,  laid  out  on  a  plan 
which  suggests  that  of  Chicago,  if  one  make 
an  allowance  for  the  difference  in  magnitude. 
St.  Nazaire  surpasses  Chicago,  however,  in 
having  a  sea  front,  instead  of  a  lake  front,  and 
its  hotels  are  better  and  cost  less.  What  more 
should  a  passing  traveller  want  of  a  modern 
city? 

Between  Nantes  and  St.  Nazaire,  on  the  gran- 
ite flank  of  Sillon  de  Bretagne,  sits  Savenay, 
as  if  its  houses  were  ranged  around  the  steps 
of  an  amphitheatre.  It  has  fallen  considerably 
from  its  proud  position  of  having  been  the 
flourishing  capital  of  the  district.  It  still  is 
the  largest  town,  but  none  of  the  honours  go 
with  its  size ;  decay  has  fallen  upon  it,  and  the 
hotels  are  dull,  sad  places,  and  even  the  omni- 
bus from  the  railway  has  stopped  its  journeys. 

The  town  was  the  site  of  a  terrific  conflict 
in  the  Vendean  wars,  and  was  well-nigh  des- 
troyed, and  its  inhabitants  were  massacred. 
Now  vineyards  grow  upon  the  very  soil  that 
a  hundred  or  more  years  ago  covered  thou- 
sands of  corpses.    Altogether  it  is  a  gruesome 


Nantes  to  Vannes  125 

memory  which  Savenay  conjures  up,  if  one 
dare  even  to  think  of  it. 

Between  Savenay  and  Guerande,  at  an  equal 
distance  between  the  two,  are  the  peat-bogs  of 
Grand  Briere.  They  are  the  great  resources 
of  the  country.  Would  you  see  them  worked? 
Then  come  in  August,  when  you  are  making 
your  way  to  some  seacoast  resort  of  Lower 
Brittany.  For  nine  days  only  in  the  year  do 
the  authorities  permit  the  sods  to  be  cut,  but 
everybody  takes  part  therein,  you  will  be  told; 
and  enough  peat  will  be  gathered,  and  dried, 
and  pressed  into  "  loaves,"  as  the  Brierons 
call  them,  to  warm  Nantes  for  a  year. 

Guerande  is  a  capital  not  quite  so  dead  and 
alive  as  Savenay;  it  is  the  possessor  of  a  past 
of  a  most  momentous  and  vivid  character  in 
its  relation  to  the  history  of  Brittany  and  of 
France.  To-day,  as  in  other  days,  the  town 
is  avowedly  Breton,  as  characteristically  so  as 
any  of  its  size  in  the  province.  Much  has  been 
sacrificed  to  the  god  of  progress,  but  enough  of 
the  ancient  aspect  of  the  place  remains  to  recall 
its  features  of  the  time  of  Duguesclin  and  Clis- 
son,  and  the  Counts  of  Montfort  and  of  Blois, 
who  proclaimed  peace  here  in  1365.  The  enor- 
mous Saint  Michael  Gate  is  a  great  fortress- 
gateway,  flanked  with  two  cylindrical  and  con- 


126 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


ical  roofed  towers  of  the  time  when  feudalism 
ruled  Brittany. 

"  Guerande,"  says  a  Frenchman,  "  has  not 
unlaced  its  corselet  of  stone  since  the  fifteenth 
century."  To-day,  even,  it  is  surrounded  by 
its  mediaeval  ramparts  in  a  manner  like  no  other 
northern  city  in  France,  reminding  one  of  those 


Ancient  Fortifications  of  Guerande 

great  walled  cities  of  Aigues  Mortes  and  Car- 
cassonne in  Southern  Gaul. 

This  proud  belt  of  machicolated  ramparts, 
ten  towers,  and  four  great  gates,  and  its  deep, 
though  now  herbage-grown,  moat  is  indeed  one 
of  the  few  monuments  of  the  middle  ages  that 
remain  to  us  in  all  their  undisturbed  splen- 
dour. 

Guerande  is  not  exactly  a  deserted  village, 


Nantes  to  Vannes  127 

but  its  streets  are,  at  midday,  as  lone  and  silent 
as  though  its  population  had  not  been  in  resi- 
dence for  many  months.  This  is  a  notable  fea- 
ture in  many  small  French  towns  during  the 
hour  and  a  half  of  the  midday  meal,  but  no- 
where else  is  it  more  to  be  remarked. 

The  old  parish  Church  of  St.  Aubin  of  Gue- 
rande  has  a  collection  of  strangely  carved  cap- 
itals depicting  horrible  chimerical  beasts,  and 
the  Chapel  of  Notre  Dame  de  la  Blanche  —  a 
fine  work  of  the  thirteenth  century  —  is  occa- 
sionally the  scene  of  a  marriage  wherein  the 
participants  dress  themselves  in  the  old-time 
resplendent  costumes.  Such  an  occasion  is 
rare,  but  should  one  be  fortunate  enough  to 
meet  with  it,  he  will  carry  away  still  another 
memory  of  the  mediaeval  flavour  still  lingering 
about  this  somnolent  little  Breton  city. 

Seaward  beyond  Guerande  are  only  Bourg 
de  Batz  and  Croisic,  a  gay  little  maritime  city 
with  a  fine  Gothic  church  of  the  highly  orna- 
mented species,  and  many  old,  high-gabled 
houses  of  the  variety  which  one  sees  frequently 
in  stage  settings.  There  are  the  local  watering- 
places,  too,  of  the  Nantais,  Ste.  Marguerite 
and  Baule,  which  have  nothing  of  interest,  how- 
ever, for  the  traveller  who  seeks  to  improve 
his  mind   and   amuse  himself  simultaneously. 


128  Rambles  in  Brittany 

They  are  undoubtedly  of  great  healthful  and 
economic  value  to  Nantes  and  St.  Nazaire,  how- 
ever, and  they  do  not  differ  greatly  from  others 
of  their  class  elsewhere. 

Again  returning  to  the  highroad,  if  one  be 
travelling  by  road,  "  Vous  prenez  le  chemin 
de  Vennes  "  (Vannes)  "  par  la  Roche  Bernard 
qui  est  aussy  celuy  de  Rhennes  et  de  Rhedon," 
wrote  a  sixteenth-century  chronicler,  and  the 
direct  road  to-day  lies  the  same  way.  It  is 
known  as  "  National  Road  "  No.  165. 

Straight  as  the  crow  flies,  but  now  up  and 
now  down,  like  all  Breton  roadways,  this 
highway  runs  from  Nantes  to  Quimper,  232 
kilometres. 

The  aspect  of  the  country  changes  percep- 
tibly as  one  leaves  Savenay  on  the  way  to  the 
real  Brittany.  One  crosses  the  Viiaine  by  the 
suspension  bridge  of  La  Eoche-Bernard,  hung 
so  perilously  high  that  the  great  three-masted 
coasters  may  pass  beneath.  It  is  unlovely,  but 
convenient,  and  saves  a  round  of  fifty  kilo- 
metres on  the  journey,  as  one  goes  from  Nantes 
to  Vannes,  so  it  may  be  pardoned. 

Northward  lies  the  very  ancient  town  of  Cha- 
teaubriant,  once  the  centre  and  life  of  Breton 
warfare  and  political  strife.  It  was  an  an- 
cient barony  of  the  county  of  Nantes,  and  owes 


Chateaubriant 


Nantes  to  Vannes  129 

its  name  to  the  compounding  of  the  word  cha- 
teau with  that  of  its  original  lord,  who  was 
named  Brient. 

The  ancient  feudal  fortress  is  now  a  ruin, 
but  the  castle  built  by  John  of  Laval,  governor 
of  Brittany  under  Francis  I.,  still  serves  the 
gendarmerie  and  the  sous-prefecture  offices. 
Above  the  portal  of  the  colonnade  one  reads 
this  inscription,  which  gives  the  date  of  the 
completion  of  the  new  castle : 


DE    MAL    EN    BIEN,    DE    BIEN    MYCVLX 

POUR    LACHEVER    IE    DEVINS    VIEVLX 

1538 


Each  is  most  interesting,  and  so  abundantly 
supplied  with  the  lore  of  romance  and  reality, 
that  one  can  only  get  his  fill  of  studying  it  on 
the  spot. 

The  Church  of  St.  Jean  de  Bere  is  a  his- 
torical monument  of  almost  the  first  rank,  and 
the  remains  of  the  ancient  Benedictine  convent 
of  St.  Saveur  date  originally  from  a  founda- 
tion of  Brient  I. 

On  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  of  Septem- 
ber of  each  year,  on  the  plain  behind  the  town, 
is  held  the  celebrated  Fair  of  Bere,  one  of  those 
great  combinations   of  marketing  and  merry- 


130  Rambles  in  Brittany 

making  for  which  old  France  was  noted,  and 
which  have  so  largely  disappeared  that  to  be 
a  part  and  parcel  of  one  is  to  have  a  most  agree- 
able experience.  Guibray,  near  Falaise,  in 
Normandy,  the  "  horse-fair  "  at  Bernay,  and 
the  Fair  de  Bere  are  the  most  celebrated  in 
these  parts. 

It  was  in  the  neighbouring  forest,  as  Pont- 
calec  recites  in  the  pages  of  "  The  Regent's 
Daughter  "  of  Dumas,  that  he  met  his  adven- 
ture with  the  "  sorceress  of  Savenay." 

"  I  saw  an  enormous  faggot  walking  along," 
said  Pontcalec  to  his  three  Breton  friends. 
"  This  did  not  surprise  me,  for  our  peasants 
carry  such  enormous  faggots  that  they  quite 
disappear  under  their  load,  but  this  faggot  ap- 
peared from  behind  to  move  alone." 

A  very  good  description  this  of  what  one 
may  see  even  to-day,  not  only  in  this  particular 
forest,  but  in  any  other  in  France.  French  fru- 
gality burns  small  sticks  and  twigs  that  in  other 
lands  would  be  made  into  a  brushwood  fire, 
and  who  shall  not  say  that  this  trait,  along 
with  many  others,  does  not  contribute  to  the 
contentment  of  the  French  peasant?  for  he  is 
content,  if  not  amply  endowed  with  this  world's 
goods;  marvellously  so  as  compared  with  his 
English,  Irish,  or  Italian  brethren.    There  may 


Nantes  to  Vannes  131 

be  other  reasons,  but  his  thrift  is  the  principal 
one. 

Any  one  seeking  change  and  rest  will  cer- 
tainly find  what  he  is  looking  for  at  Chateau- 
briant.  It  is  somnolently  dull  all  through  the 
week  and  doubly  so  on  Sundays,  but,  in  spite 
of  all  this,  it  is  delightful,  and  a  romantic  nov- 
elist —  or  even  a  writer  of  romantic  novels  — 
could  hardly  find  a  more  inspiring  background 
than  the  country  round  about. 

There  is  a  legend,  too,  in  connection  with 
the  old  chateau  that  might  be  worked  up  into 
a  first-class  romance,  either  for  the  stage  or 
as  a  sword  and  cloak  novel.  After  all,  it  is 
not  exactly  legend  either,  though  it  is  almost 
too  horrible  to  appear  true.  The  reader  may 
judge  for  himself,  for  here  it  is: 

In  the  old  chateau  lived  for  a  time  that  un- 
fortunate Frances  de  Foix  whom  Francis  I. 
had  created  Countess  de  Chateaubriant.  To- 
day much  of  the  luxury  with  which  this  mis- 
tress of  the  royal  lover  had  surrounded  her- 
self has  disappeared,  though  enough  remains, 
through  restoration  and  preservation,  to  sug- 
gest the  very  splendid  appointments  of  a 
former  time.  The  young  Frances  de  Foix, 
herself  of  the  house  that  once  possessed  the 
crown  of  Navarre,  married  the  old  Count  of 


132  Rambles  in  Brittany 

Laval,  who  soon  brooded  himself  into  a  pas- 
sion of  jealousy  over  the  affair  of  his  wife  and 
her  princely  lover,  particularly  as  it  was  said 
that  she  had  gone  to  visit  Francis  while  he  was 
in  prison  after  his  capture  at  Pavia.  "  The 
countess  found  the  king's  prison  very  dismal," 
said  the  chroniclers  of  the  time.  This  last  act 
proved  too  much  for  the  elderly  spouse,  who 
speedily  ' '  shut  up  his  young  wife  in  a  darkened 
and  padded  cell,  and  finally  had  her  cut  into 
pieces  by  two  surgeons,"  as  the  story  goes. 
After  this  horrible  event  the  murderer  fled  the 
country,  as  might  have  been  expected,  in  order, 
say  the  chroniclers  again,  "  to  escape  the  ven- 
geance of  the  king." 

Redon,  just  to  the  north,  is  an  unattractive 
place.  Most  folk  know  it  only  as  the  railway 
official  calls  out:  "  Forty-five  minutes'  stop  for 
luncheon,  refreshments,  and  all  the  rest." 

Very  amusing  are  these  railway  lunch-rooms 
seen  throughout  France.  But  withal  they  are 
most  excellently  appointed,  although  the  pas- 
sengers, like  their  kind  the  world  over,  eat  as 
though  they  had  not  a  minute  to  lose,  and  have 
a  good  fifteen  left  on  their  hands  when  they 
have  finished  their  repast. 

The  meals  are  usually  divided  into  three 
categories :   the  public  table  at  a  set  price,  the 


Nantes  to  Vannes 


133 


table  for  the  aristocracy  at  three  francs,  the 
table  with  set  portions,  the  frugal  repast  at 
half  as  much,  and  the  service  "  to  order," 
which  is  the  most  costly  of  all. 


Ta.n  dux.  /Kencu>e«-.    . 

Nothing  is  of  an  inferior  quality,  however, 
and,  as  all  is  served  from  the  same  kitchen, 
it  is  merely  a  question  as  to  whether  one  will 
have  more  or  less,  or  whether  he  will  eat  it  off 
linen  napery,  with  a  napkin  to  tuck  under  his 
right  ear,  —  as  is  the  French  commercial  trav- 


134  Rambles  in  Brittany 

eller  's  custom,  —  or  whether  he  will  be  satis- 
fied with  an  oilcloth  table-covering.  The  differ- 
ence is  more  apparent  than  real,  for  the  "  fru- 
gal repast  "  at  a  franc  and  a  half  is  the  three 
franc  meal  shorn  of  its  trimmings;  you  get 
the  same  dishes  and  the  same  service. 

As  if  to  ease  the  process,  a  stentorian  rail- 
way hand  puts  his  head  in  the  door  and  shouts : 
u  Ten  minutes  before  the  Vannes  express 
starts!  "  and  returns  again  at  the  end  of  the 
allotted  time  to  give  a  final  call:  "  Into  the 
carriages,  gentlemen!  "  It  is  much  the  same 
the  world  over,  of  course,  but  they  are  more 
polite  in  France,  and  the  food  is  better  of  its 
kind,  and  much  better  served,  two  very  appre- 
ciable differences. 

Eedon  itself  and  its  great  open  square,  on 
which  are  the  railway  station,  the  hotels,  and 
the  gaunt,  lone,  dismembered  tower  of  the 
Church  of  St.  Sauveur,  is  by  no  means  attract- 
ive. The  square  is  bare  of  trees,  and  in  the 
summer  the  sun  beats  down  upon  the  frequent- 
ers of  the  terrace  coffee-rooms  of  the  hotels 
in  a  manner  which  makes  one  wonder  why  they 
do  not  move  off  and  seek  a  shady  spot  else- 
where. 

The  indifference  shown  by  the  natives  of 
certain  localities  for  the  pelting  sunlight,  which 


Nantes  to  Vannes  135 

makes  some  of  us  think  of  cabbage  leaves  for 
our  hats  and  "  gin  rickeys  "  for  our  stomachs, 
is  curious.  The  Neapolitan  prefers  to  loll 
about  in  the  blazing  Italian  sun,  and  says  that 
no  one  but  an  Englishman  or  a  dog  ever  seeks 
the  shade.  The  citizen  of  Redon  is  like  him, 
and  does  not  care  who  knows  it,  and  his  sun- 
light, though  it  comes  to  earth  some  hundreds 
of  miles  farther  north,  appears  to  be  of  the 
same  caloric  value. 

Redon  was  an  old  monastic  foundation  of 
St.  Convoion's,  of  the  Vannes  church.  He  built 
the  Abbey  of  St.  Sauveur,  of  which  the  present 
church  and  its  lone  tower  are  later  additions. 
The  main  body  of  the  present  edifice  dates  in 
part  from  the  time  of  the  foundation,  though 
its  fabric  was  frequently  added  to  and  restored 
up  to  the  twelfth  century,  from  which  period 
it  may  really  be  said  to  date.  The  central  tower 
of  this  church  is  said  to  be  the  only  Roman- 
esque feature  of  its  class  in  all  Brittany,  and 
is  certainly  one  of  the  most  sturdy  anywhere  to 
be  seen. 

Another  remarkable  feature  is  a  chapel,  the 
walls  loopholed  and  machicolated,  and  built  by 
the  Abbe  Yves  in  the  fifteenth  century;  to-day 
it  serves  as  the  sacristy. 

The  high  altar,  a  rich  and  imposing  affair, 


136  Rambles  in  Brittany- 

was  the  gift  of  the  great  Richelieu  when  he 
was  in  possession  of  the  revenues  of  the  abbey. 
The  city  was  surrounded  by  a  fortification  or 
wall  by  the  Abbot  John  of  Treal  in  1364,  and 
in  1422  John  V.,  Count  of  Brittany,  established 
a  mint  here. 

Questembert,  westward  toward  Vannes,  is  a 
town  of  four  thousand  or  so  inhabitants,  and 
has  many  interesting  old  houses,  but  otherwise 
is  devoid  of  attractions  either  for  the  lover  of 
architectural  monuments  or  for  worshippers  at 
religious  or  other  shrines.  It  is,  however,  the 
place  for  holding  many  local  fairs  or  markets 
of  considerable  magnitude,  where  one  may 
make  practically  his  first  acquaintance  with  the 
Breton  peasant,  becoiffed  and  beribboned  as  he, 
or  she,  only  is  on  native  heath. 

Rochefort-en-Terre  is  also  a  chief  place;  as 
its  population  numbers  less  than  seven  hundred 
souls,  it  cannot  be  considered  as  even  a  local 
metropolis.  Its  situation  and  its  fine,  though 
not  stupendously  remarkable,  architectural  glo- 
ries make  up  for  what  it  lacks  in  the  way  of 
population.  It  sits  high  on  a  hillside  dominat- 
ing the  little  river  Arz,  a  confluent  of  the 
Vilaine.  Its  name  is  due  to  the  founder  of  a 
chateau  built  here  in  the  thirteenth  century 
and  destroved  bv  the  Catholic  Leaguers  in  1594. 


Nantes  to  Vannes  137 


though  it  was  afterwards  rebuilt  and  again 
destroyed,  this  time  by  Revolutionary  fire- 
brands, in  1793.  The  ruins  of  this  chateau  are 
to-day  very  satisfactory  indeed  as  ruins, 
though  they  include  few  or  none  of  the  archi- 
tectural details  with  which  the  work  must  once 
have  been  endowed.  The  lower  courses  of  the 
walls  are  there,  remains  of  five  towers,  and  an 
ancient  well,  with  a  curb  of  sculptured  granite. 

The  ancient  collegiate  Church  of  Notre  Dame 
de  la  Tronchaye  is  an  ecclesiastical  monument 
of  high  rank,  for  a  town  like  Rochefort-en- 
Terre,  and  is  an  altogether  lovable  old  shrine, 
with  admirable  sculptures  in  stone  and  some 
curious  wooden  statues,  in  the  interior,  said 
originally  to  have  been  those  of  Claude  of 
Rieux  and  Suzanne  of  Bourbon,  Lord  and 
Lady  de  Rochefort.  These  statues  are  now 
converted  into  a  St.  Joseph  and  a  Virgin.  This 
may  or  may  not  have  been  a  sacrilege ;  it  cer- 
tainly was  a  desecration.  The  ancient  city 
gates  remain,  and  there  are  numerous  fifteenth 
and  sixteenth  century  houses. 

The  country  round  about  Rochefort-en-Terre 
was  brought  into  vogue  by  the  landscape- 
painter,  Pelouze,  some  years  ago,  and  other 
artists  have  followed  in  his  wake,  making  an 
ever  growing  artist  colony  in  the  summer-time. 


138  Rambles  in  Brittany 

Studies  and  sketches  decorate  the  dining-room 
of  the  Hotel  Lecadre  in  a  surprising  number; 
at  least  surprising  to  one  who  comes  upon  this 
unassuming  little  town  and  its  excellent,  before 
named,  little  hotel  while  journeying  to  Finis- 
tere. 

Still  going  toward  Vannes  one  passes  Elven, 
near  which  is  the  Manoir  of  Kerlean,  the  fam- 
ily estate  of  the  Descartes.  The  birth  certifi- 
cate of  the  Descartes  is  in  the  records  in  the 
mayor's  office. 

Three  kilometres  to  the  north  are  the  re- 
mains of  the  ancient  fortress  of  Largoet,  whose 
tower,  known  as  the  Tour  d 'Elven,  dates  from 
the  fifteenth  century.  This  tower  has  been 
called  the  most  beautiful  castle  keep  in  all 
Brittany,  and  so  it  is  if  one  take  into  con- 
sideration its  moss-and-ivy-grown  walls  and  its 
general  eerie  espect,  heightened  perceptibly  if 
seen  by  moonlight.  This  high,  majestic  tower 
of  a  feudal  castle,  whose  other  members  have 
practically  disappeared,  is  also  a  literary 
shrine  of  high  rank,  inasmuch  as  Octave  Feuil- 
let  has  placed  here  some  of  the  most  moving 
scenes  in  his  "  Story  of  a  Poor  Young  Man.'" 
Perhaps  this  true  romance  is  not  so  well  known 
to  the  present  generation  as  to  a  former,  but 
it  should  be,  and  accordingly  the  clue  is  here 


Tour  d'Elven 


Nantes  to  Vannes  139 

given,  and  it  should  have  a  double  significance 
so  far  as  travellers  in  Brittany  are  concerned. 

One  enters  Vannes,  if  it  be  a  holiday  or  a 
Sunday,  amid  a  gaiety  and  uproar  that  is  ap- 
parently inexplicable.  To  be  sure  Vannes  is  the 
metropolis  of  the  Morbihan,  but  one  does  not 
look  for  such  continuous  gaiety  on  the  part  of 
a  people  supposed  to  be  wholly  devout  and  not 
very  rich,  as  possessors  of  this  world's  goods 
count  their  gains.  Devoutness  need  not  neces- 
sarily mean  glumness,  and  so  as  it  all  seems, 
around  Vannes  at  least,  to  be  for  the  general 
good,  one  is  not  sorry  to  have  his  first  intro- 
duction to  a  great  Breton  town  in  a  way  so 
pleasant. 

Really  it  is  a  sort  of  small  gaiety,  and  strictly 
local,  which  goes  on  here.  There  is  nothing  of 
the  riotous  order,  but  it  is  all  very  gay,  never- 
theless. 

The  simple  folk  of  the  Morbihan,  who  have 
crowded  into  Vannes  for  the  day,  are  as  inter- 
ested and  amused  with  a  hurdy-gurdy  Punch 
and  Judy  show,  a  travelling  circus,  or  a  merry- 
go-round  as  if  they  were  the  latest  distractions 
of  Paris.  Meanwhile  one  seeks  his  hotel,  and 
there  comes  another  surprise. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    MORBIHAN VANNES    AND    T. 

The  "  Golfe  "  or  Bay  of  Morbihan  is  one 
of  those  great  landlocked  havens  in  which  the 
whole  Breton  coast  abounds ;  its  islands  are  as 
many  as  the  days  of  the  year,  as  the  natives 
have  it. 

Morbihan  itself  is  as  much  sea  as  land.  The 
tides  rise  to  a  great  height  along  this  whole 
southern  coast  of  Brittany,  and  in  the  Bay  of 
Morbihan  they  have  full  play. 

The  metropolis  of  Lower  Morbihan  is 
Vannes,  which  the  railway  porters  shout  out 
at  you,  as  you  descend  from  the  train,  as 
Va-a-a-nnes. 

Leaving  the  station,  one  threads  his  way 
through  whole  batteries  of  laundresses,  their 
gull-winged  head-dress  nodding  in  rhythm  with 
the  beating  of  their  paddles,  a  most  picturesque 
sight,  but  a  process  which  works  disaster  to 
one's  clothes,  destroying  pearl  buttons,  and 
causing  mysterious   small  holes  to   appear  in 

140 


The  Morbihan  141 

the  most  inconvenient  places.  An  accompani- 
ment of  song  always  goes  with,  these  shattering 
and  battering  exercises.  At  Vannes,  according 
to  Theodore  Botrel,  it  runs  like  this: 

"  Pan  !  pan  !  pan  ! 
Ma  Doue*  ! 
Comme  la  langue  maudite 
Marche  bien  au  vieux  lavoit. 
Pan  !  pan  !  pan  ! 
Vite  !  vite ! 
Plus  vite  que  le  battoir  !  " 

It  is  the  day  of  the  local  fair,  the  chief  arti- 
cle of  commerce  being,  it  would  seem,  pigs, 
as  at  Limerick.  At  any  rate,  there  are  hun- 
dreds, if  not  thousands,  of  little  porkers,  who 
have  just  put  foot  to  earth,  as  their  venders  tell 
one;  their  own  voices,  too,  strident  and  high 
pitched,  announce  the  same  thing. 

Vannes,  truth  to  tell,  is  not  much  of  a  capi- 
tal, but  it  is  a  highly  interesting  and  pictur- 
esque old  town,  with  manners  and  customs 
quite  different  from  those  of  any  of  its  neigh- 
bours. 

The  chief  characteristics  of  the  place  seem 
to  be  pointed  roofs  of  red  and  moss-grown  tiles 
and  walls  of  blue  granite.  One  can  almost  im- 
agine that  Botrel  chose  it  as  the  scene  of  the 
stanza : 


142 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


Qui  done  chante  sous  nos  fenetres 
Ces  myst^rieuses  chansons  ? 
Ce  sont  les  ames  des  ancetres 
Qui  reconnaissent  leurs  maisons  !  " 


Market-woman,   Vannes 


There  is  a  blending  of  the  seashore  and  the 
open  country  here  which  is  scarcely  found  in 
any  other  part  of  France.  In  some  respects 
it  is  like  Holland,  and  again  it  is  not,  for  it 
lacks  the  web  of  canals  with  which  that  country 
is  interwoven. 


The  Morbihan 


143 


The    whole   bay  —  *  *  Le    Golf e  ' '  —  forms   a 
dooryard  for  Vannes,  and  a  yacht  or  a  boat 


-)vtar  Vannes-  n^ay1  J03 

The  Country  near   Vannes 

is  as  much  an  appendage  of  the  Vannes  house- 
hold of  the  better  class  as  a  dog  or  cat. 

Vannes,  the  capital  of  the  Morbihan,  is  a  city 
of  23,000  souls,  and  has  two  great  modern,  up- 
to-date  hotels.    Choose  one,  and  you  will  "  like 


144  Rambles  in  Brittany 

the  other  best,"  as  Bubinstein  said  to  the 
young  pianist,  who  was  to  play  two  of  his  com- 
positions to  the  master.  He  said  this,  be  it 
recalled,  after  he  had  heard  only  the  first  one. 
Not  that  Vannes  hotels  are  really  bad.  Oh,  no. 
Truth  to  tell,  they  are  excellent  in  their  way, 
but  they  are  unconvincing. 

When  one  is  here,  in  the  midst  of  a  new, 
strange  set  of  conditions  of  life,  he  looks  for 
something  characteristic  about  his  inn.  If  he 
find  it,  he  is  content ;  if  he  do  not,  all  the  smug- 
ness and  propriety  of  imported  manners  and 
customs  in  the  dinner  service  will  not  make 
him  so.  The  true  traveller  prefers  taking  his 
chances  with  the  native  dishes  to  trifling  with 
Paris  culinary  fashions  at  the  hands  of  a  Bre- 
ton peasant-chef,  —  if  that  is  the  exact  classi- 
fication one  ought  to  give  the  cooks  of  Vannes. 

To  enter  Vannes  by  road,  one  has  come  down 
a  precipitous  descent  to  the  sea-level,  and  ac- 
cordingly rises  again  to  an  equal  height  when 
he  leaves,  for  Vannes  is  the  great  tidewater 
port  for  the  whole  of  the  south  coast  of  Brit- 
tany between  Lorient  and  St.  Nazaire.  The 
traffic  of  the  bays  of  Morbihan  and  Quiberon 
is  considerable,  and  the  ceaseless  coming  and 
going  of  many  small  steamers  and  sailing-craft 
is  unlike  traffic  elsewhere. 


The  Morbihan  145 

The  great  bay  is  an  inland  sea  almost  sur- 
rounded by  the  jutting  peninsulas  which  ter- 
minate on  either  side  of  the  narrow  channel 
in  Pointe  de  Kerpenhir  and  Port  Navalo.  The 
name  is  compounded  of  two  Breton  words,  mor 
(sea)  and  bihan  (little).  The  flat  tree-grown 
islands  of  this  little  sea  make  vistas  and  groups 
of  a  unique  character,  and  to  learn  the  bay  well 
by  a  voyage  among  them  in  a  flat-bottomed 
skimming-dish  of  a  craft,  or  by  the  more  facile 
motor-launch,  is  a  thoroughly  agreeable  experi- 
ence. 

The  chief  of  the  islands  are  the  Monks  Isle 
and  the  He  d'Arz,  but  the  enfolding  shores  of 
the  mainland,  with  its  little  seaside-farmyard 
villages,  have  the  same  characteristics. 

On  the  little  passenger  steamers,  which  ply 
between  the  islands  and  the  mainland,  one 
meets  a  queer  company  of  peasant-folk  in  coifs 
and  round  velvet  or  straw  caps,  fowls,  sheep, 
goats,  and  an  occasional  overgrown  calf. 

Such  of  the  islands  of  the  bay  as  are  popu- 
lated, and  many  of  them  are,  were  colonized 
from  the  neighbouring  country,  and  the  women 
in  particular  are  physically  admirable.  They 
still  wear  the  distinctive  costume  of  the  coun- 
try in  a  spirit  uncontaminated  by  the  electric 
lights    and    railways    of   Vannes.      Custom    in 


146  Rambles  in  Brittany 

these  isles  allows  the  young  women  to  demand 
the  hand  of  a  likely  swain  in  marriage,  and  the 
plan  seems  to  work  well.  The  population  seems 
generally  happy,  prosperous,  and  contented. 
What  better  is  expected  as  the  outcome  of 
marriage  ? 

The  climate  of  all  the  Morbilian  shore  is  mild 
and  tranquil  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  and  one 
may  sit  beside  the  open  window  of  his  hotel 
dining-room  throughout  the  year.  The  mimosa 
flowers  in  winter,  and  palms,  rose-trees,  camel- 
lias, and  fig-trees  prosper  exceedingly  in  the 
open  air. 

Vannes  was  the  ancient  capital  of  the  Veneti, 
a  strong  coast  tribe  of  other  days  which  re- 
sisted the  invasion  of  Caesar  and  triumphed 
against  his  fleet  a  half -century  or  more  before 
the  Christian  era. 

When  finally  the  Eomans  came,  they  made 
Vannes  the  centre  of  six  great  highways  which 
radiated  to  Corseul,  to  Angers,  to  Hennebont, 
to  Locmariaquer,  to  Eennes,  and  to  Nantes. 
From  this  its  importance  may  be  inferred. 

Christianity  came  to  Vannes  in  465,  when 
St.  Perpetus,  Metropolitan  of  Tours,  conse- 
crated St.  Patern  as  first  bishop.  By  the  sixth 
century  it  had  become  an  independent  county, 
but  was  joined  again  to  the  duchy  of  Brittany 


The  Morbihan 


147 


in  990.  John  IV.  established  his  habitual  resi- 
dence at  Vannes,  and  constructed  the  celebrated 
Chateau  de  PHermine,  with  its  constable's 
tower  so  famous  in  the  history  of  Brittany  as 
the  place  in  which  he  imprisoned  Clisson,  re- 
leasing him  only  after  the  payment  of  a  heavy 
ransom. 

The  history  of  Vannes  and  the  Morbihan  is 
too  long  and  stormy  to  be  even  outlined  here, 


Tout  SV  Tra.nto,s 

Ancient  City    Walls,    Vannes 


but  there  are  still  many  remains  and  memories 
which  will  serve  as  a  foundation  upon  which  to 
build  the  fabric  anew. 

The  port  is  most  interesting,  with  its  varied 
traffic  and  its  great  ships  of  nearly  a  thousand 
tons  which  thread  their  way  up  through  the 
islands  of  the  gulf,  bringing  lumber,  coals,  and 
all  the  small  cargoes  of  a  great  coasting  port. 

At  Vannes  one  may  see  a  huge  parti-col- 
oured handkerchief  of  the   bandanna  variety 


148  Rambles  in  Brittany 


waving  before  a  narrow  doorway.  It  is  the 
"  shawl,"  the  sign  of  the  hair-cutter,  who  will 
exchange  its  fellow  for  your  hair,  if  you  be  a 
Breton  girl  with  dark  brown  tresses,  or  even 
an  elderly  person  whose  hair  is  iron-gray.  In 
Lower  Brittany,  on  summer  fair-days,  the 
dealer  in  hair  makes  a  round  exceedingly  prof- 
itable to  his  establishment,  though  at  each  stop- 
ping-place it  leaves  a  hundred  or  more  young 
girls  shorn  of  their  crowning  glory,  —  a  loss 
which  they  successfully  cover  with  their  dain- 
tily ironed  head-dress. 

The  chief  of  the  sights  and  shrines  of  the 
neighbourhood  of  Vannes  are  St.  Gildas  de 
Khuis  and  the  Chateau  of  Suscino.  The  former 
is  revered  for  its  sixth-century  monastic  foun- 
dation of  St.  Gildas,  called  the  wise,  and  for 
some  time  in  the  twelfth  century  governed  by 
the  famous  Abelard.  The  ancient  abbatial 
church  is  now  the  parish  church.  It  dates  from 
the  twelfth  to  the  fourteenth  centuries,  and  is 
an  unusual  work  in  many  respects,  and  rising 
to  a  height  of  grandeur  seldom  seen  outside  the 
larger  Breton  cities  and  towns. 

The  castle  of  Suscino  —  or  more  properly  the 
ruin  —  is  a  wonderful  thirteenth-century  struc- 
ture on  the  water's  edge,  built  by  John  the 
Bed-haired.     It  follows  the  best  Gothic  tradi- 


Chateau   of  Suscino 


The  Morbihan  149 

tions  of  its  time,  and  its  crenelated  walls  and 
towers,  the  latter  now  nnroofed,  are  perfect 
of  their  kind.  It  was  captured  by  Charles  of 
Blois,  and  retaken  by  his  Montfort  rival  in 
1364.  An  English  garrison  occupied  it  in  1373. 
Finally  it  was  given  by  Anne  of  Brittany  to 
John  of  Chalons,  Prince  of  Orange,  from  whom 
it  was  taken  by  Francis  I.,  and  he  presented 


it  to  Frances  of  Foix,  Lady  of  Chateaubriant, 
as  she  then  was.  The  rest  of  its  history  is 
equally  varied,  and  as  important  as  becomes 
so  magnificent  a  mediaeval  fortress. 

In  form  the  chateau  is  an  irregular  pentagon, 
perhaps  modified  from  its  original  plan  in  1420. 
Its  orchid  machicolations  are  remarkable  both 
for  their  beauty  and  their  utility.  Seven  tow- 
ers, of  which  six  remain,  originally  flanked  its 


150  Rambles  in  Brittany 

gates  and  walls.  The  new  tower  is  a  fine  cylin- 
drical keep  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Over  the 
entrance  one  still  reads  a  tablet  inscription  as 
follows : 


Id    EST    NE* 

Le  duc  Arthur  III. 
le  24  AoCt,  1393 


North  of  Vannes  are  Ploermel  and  Josselin, 
two  places  which  no  one  should  leave  out  of 
the  itinerary  of  Brittany.  Neither  is  easily  ac- 
cessible by  rail,  but  both  are  conveniently 
reached  by  road. 

Ploermel  has  a  railway  connection  with  the 
line  to  Brest  by  way  of  Rennes,  and  another 
with  the  line  to  Brest  by  way  of  Vannes,  but 
Josselin  is  off  the  beaten  track,  and  one  makes 
his  way  from  Ploermel  by  omnibus  or  in  a  car- 
riage. 

Ploermel  and  its  "  pardon  "  have  inspired 
an  opera,  one  of  Meyerbeer's  most  celebrated 
scores,  known  to  English  music  lovers  as  "  Di- 
norah,"  but  in  French  called  "  The  Pardon  of 
Ploermel."  The  town  owes  its  name  to  an 
anchorite  who,  in  the  sixth  century,  retired 
here  to  a  hermitage. 

The  history  of  Ploermel  during  the  middle 


The  Morbihan  151 

ages  was  stormy.  It  was  here  that  the  edict 
expelling  the  Jews  from  Brittany  was  issued 
in  1240.  In  1273  the  Comte  de  Richemont  — 
upon  his  return  from  the  Crusades  —  founded 
at  Ploermel  the  first  Carmelite  convent  known 
to  France.  This  ancient  convent,  situated  with- 
out the  walls,  escaped  from  the  disasters  which 
caused  the  city  to  be  burned  in  1347.  The  Cal- 
vinists  came  in  time  to  have  a  temple  here,  in 
which  they  held  two  synods  of  their  church. 

To-day  Ploermel  is  a  sleepy,  old-world  town, 
with  two  good  inns,  and  not  much  except  the 
fragmentary  reminders  of  old  walls  and  build- 
ings to  remind  one  of  the  parts  played  in  other 
days. 

The  Church  of  St.  Armel,  a  reconstruction  of 
1511  - 1602,  is  in  parts  highly  decorated  with 
stone  sculptures  and  strange  images,  recalling, 
says  an  ingenious,  but  profane,  Frenchman, 
the  "  pleasantries  of  Rabelais."  Of  course  he 
refers  to  the  players  on  the  bagpipes,  the  man 
sewing  up  the  mouth  of  his  wife,  and  the  wife 
tearing  off  her  husband's  cap.  Certainly  these 
quaint  figures  are  not  born  of  religious  sym- 
bolism, unless,  by  chance,  that  the  symbolism 
of  the  religious  builders  of  Ploermel  differs 
greatly  from  that  of  others  elsewhere. 


152 Rambles  in  Brittany 

There  are  still  remains  of  PloermePs  old  city 
walls  dating  from  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
also  a  fragment  of  a  tower. 

Near  by,  on  the  road  to  Josselin,  is  a  simple 
granite  shaft  perpetuating  the  famous  "  Battle 
of  the  Thirty, ' '  celebrated  in  history. 

According  to  Froissart,  Robert  of  Beau- 
manoir,  chatelain  of  Josselin,  one  day  provoked 
an  English  captain  —  Bromborough  —  who 
was  encamped  at  Ploermel,  and  challenged  him 
to  battle;  thirty  of  his  men  against  thirty 
Frenchmen.  At  the  first  attack  four  French- 
men and  two  English  fell.  Then  the  combat  be- 
gan again  with  swords,  battle-axes,  and  lances. 
Eight  English  only  finally  remained,  including 
Bromborough  himself;  all  the  others  were 
killed  or  taken  prisoners  and  led  away  to  the 
dungeons  of  the  Chateau  de  Josselin. 

Froissart  writes  elsewhere  of  this  same  en- 
gagement: "  Twenty-two  years  after  the  bat- 
tle of  the  thirty,  I  saw  at  the  table  of  King 
Charles  of  France  one  of  the  combatants,  a 
knight  called  Yvain  Charnel.  His  face  showed 
that  the  battle  had  been  hot,  for  it  was  scarred 
all  over." 

This  wayside  column  or  pyramid  just  off  the 
route  bears  the  following  inscription : 


^ 


; 

J 

ft' 


mm  I 

- 


''^Oft-^A 


Plo'ermel 


The  Morbihan  153 


A  la  Memoire  Perpetuelle 

DE    LA    BATAILLE    DES    TrANTE 

que  Mgr  le  Marechal  de  Beau  Manoir 
a  Gaignee  dans  ce  Lieu  l'An  1530 


Josselin  is  now  chief  town  of  a  commune  of 
2,500  inhabitants ;  it  has  a  fine  mediaeval  cha- 
teau yet  inhabitable,  two  ecclesiastical  monu- 
ments of  more  than  unusual  excellence,  and  a 
rather  shaky  and  ill-situated  inn  (Hotel  de 
France),  which  makes  up  in  the  abundance  and 
excellence  of  its  fare  for  what  it  lacks  in  the 
way  of  electric  lights  and  modern  sanitary  ar- 
rangements. 

The  first  houses  of  Josselin  were  grouped 
around  a  miraculous  effigy  of  the  Virgin,  known 
as  Notre  Dame  du  Roncier,  because  it  was 
found  beneath  a  blackberry-bush.  To-day 
Notre  Dame  du  Roncier,  the  church  and  the 
chapel  and  its  statue  of  the  Virgin,  are  ven- 
erated highly  by  the  faithful  who  make  the 
pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  on  the  Monday  and 
Tuesday  of  Pentecost  and  on  the  eighth  of  Sep- 
tember, the  birthday  of  the  Virgin,  when  the 
remains  of  her  ancient  statue  are  shown.  This 
effigy  was  broken  and  burned  in  the  Revolution- 
ary fury  of  1793,  but  a  modern  replica  was 
crowned,  in  the  Chapel  Notre  Dame  du  Ron- 


154 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


cier,  in  1868.  The  settlement  which  grew  up 
around  the  shrine  was  surrounded  by  a  pro- 
tecting wall  by  the  Count  of  Guethenoc  in  1008, 


:=C£ 


Jossef'a 
Shrine  of  St.  Etienne,  Josselin 

and  in  1030  it  was  given  the  name  of  Josselin, 
after  his  son. 

In  the  thirteenth  century,  the  county  of  Por- 
hoet,  in  which  Josselin  was   situated,  passed 


The  Morbihan 155 

to  the  house  of  Fougeres,  and  its  affairs  were 
varied  and  involved  until  Peter  of  Valois, 
Count  of  Alencon,  sold  it  to  the  Constable  Oli- 
ver of  Clisson,  whose  daughter  brought  it  in 
marriage  to  the  Rohans,  to  whose  descendants 
it  still  belongs. 

In  the  Church  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Black- 
berry-bush is  a  remarkable  tomb  placed  in  the 
Chapel  of  St.  Marguerite  —  the  former  ora- 
tory of  the  constable  —  to  Oliver  of  Clisson  and 
Marguerite  of  Rohan. 

The  castle  rests  on  a  rocky  foundation  be- 
side the  river  Oust,  and  its  front  is  most  im- 
posing. Three  towers  with  conical  roofs  flank 
the  riverside,  and  are  an  expression  of  the  best 
fortress-chateau  building  of  its  era  (twelfth 
century),  severe  and  gaunt  in  every  line,  and 
yet  beautifully  planned.  The  interior  court 
takes  on  quite  a  different  aspect,  that  of  the 
"  architecture  civile  "  of  the  third  ogival  pe- 
riod, when  Renaissance  forms  and  details  had 
crept  in,  almost  destroying  Gothic  lines. 

The  window  openings  of  the  two  stories  have 
an  admirable  decorative  effect,  as  beautiful  as 
those  of  Blois  and  very  nearly  equalling  those 
of  Chambord. 

An  open  gallery  above  the  windows  is  a 
charming  additional  interpolation,  and  between 


156  Rambles  in  Brittany- 

each  window  is  carved  "  A  Plus,"  the  device 
of  the  distinguished  family  of  the  Rohans,  who 
built  this  part  of  the  structure.  A  keep  and 
some  later  walls  and  parapets  were  added  by 
Clisson  somewhere  about  the  year  1400,  but 
most  of  them  disappeared  in  1629,  when  the 
chateau  ceased  to  be  a  stronghold  of  the 
League. 

In  the  main  it  is  a  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
century  structure  which  is  so  admirably  pre- 
served to-day.  One  may  visit  the  interior, 
through  the  courtesy  of  the  family  in  residence, 
and,  though  it  may  be  somewhat  disconcerting 
to  walk  through  these  historic  apartments  of 
another  day  and  see  such  modern  innovations 
as  electric  bells  and  other  appurtenances  of  a 
late  civilization,  the  experience  is,  after  all, 
a  peep  behind  the  curtain,  and  this  the  up-to- 
date  motor-car  tourist  always  appreciates 
highly. 

The  great  hall,  the  library,  with  its  magnifi- 
cent chimneypiece  and  its  cipher,  "  A  Plus,'' 
carved  in  stone,  and  the  dining-room  orna- 
mented with  a  modern  equestrian  statue  of 
Clisson,  by  Fremiet,  are  the  chief  apartments 
shown. 

In  the  court  within  the  walls  is  an  ancient 


■. 


Chateau  de  Josselin 


The  Morbihan  157 

well  surrounded  by  an  elaborate  forged  iron 
railing. 

One  takes  the  road  again,  by  the  way  of  Loc- 
mine and  Baud,  for  Auray,  the  most  dainty 
and  charming  of  all  Breton  market-towns,  pass- 
ing through  a  delightfully  picturesque  country 
of  rolling  hills  and  deep  valleys  and  fir  forests, 
studded  here  and  there  with  lakelets. 

Locmine,  which  derives  its  name  from  Loc- 
menec'h  (monk's  cell),  was  the  site  of  a  mon- 
astery founded  in  the  sixth  century  by  St.  Co- 
lomban.  It  was  burned  by  the  Normans  in  the 
ninth  century,  after  the  pleasant  custom  of 
these  invaders,  and  reestablished  in  1006  by 
Geoffrey,  Duke  of  Brittany,  as  a  priory  at- 
tached to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Gildas  of  Ehuis. 

In  the  present  church  of  Locmine  is  a  chapel 
dedicated  to  St.  Colomban,  containing  a  paint- 
ing representing  scenes  from  the  life  of  the 
saint;  others  are  carried  out  in  the  coloured 
glass  of  the  windows. 

One  reads  the  following,  —  a  supplication  on 
behalf  of  the  dangerous  madmen  who  at  one 
time  occupied  two  cells  beneath  the  pavement: 

"  St.  Colomban,  patron  of  Looming,  pray  for  us ! 
St.  Colomban,  help  of  idiots,  pray  for  us ! " 

Behind  the  church  is  an  elaborate  ossuary 
dating  from  Renaissance  times,  when  these  ad- 


158  Rambles  in  Brittany 

juncts  to  burial-grounds  were  so  plentifully 
scattered  over  Brittany. 

Baud  has  an  enormous  parish  church  of  the 
time  of  Louis  XIV.,  with  a  fine  Gothic  arcade 
and  a  great  crucifix  standing  beside  the  outer 
wall.  Aside  from  this,  there  is  not  much  else 
here  to  attract  one,  unless  he  be  a  pilgrim  af- 
fected with  disease  of  the  eye.  If  he  be,  and 
if  he  bathe  in  the  "  Fontaine  de  la  clarte,"  and 
the  fates  be  propitious,  and  he  be  not  too  far 
gone  otherwise,  and  everything  else  be  as  it 
should,  he  will  be  cured  forthwith  —  perhaps. 

It  is  unkind  to  scoff  at  these  miraculous 
fountains  scattered  here  and  there  over  the 
world,  of  course,  but  one  has  seen  so  many  in- 
dividual cases  that  were  not  benefited,  and 
heard  of  so  many  that  were,  that  one  may  be 
justified  in  a  little  skepticism. 

To  Auray  is  twenty  kilometres  by  a  road 
which  gently  rolls  down  a  matter  of  150  metres 
of  elevation  until  it  reaches  sea-level  at  the 
little  market-town  seaport  known  in  Breton  as 
Aire. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

AURAY    AND   THE   MEGALITHIC    MONUMENTS    OF 
MORBIHAN 

Auray  is  the  real  centre  from  which  to  make 
the  round  of  the  vast  collection  of  relics  of  the 
long  lost  civilization  of  Morbihan. 

Many  have  attempted  to  explain  the  signifi- 
cance of  these  rude  stone  monuments.  Some 
have  said  that  the  famous  avenues  of  Carnac 
were  the  streets  of  one  of  Caesar's  camps,  its 
roofs  having  fallen  and  mouldered  away,  and 
that  the  famous  "  Merchants'  Table  "  at  Loc- 
mariaquer  was  an  ancient  druidical  altar,  to 
which  the  helpless  were  led  to  be  sacrificed. 

All  this  and  much  more  is  for  the  antiquary 
alone,  and  a  nodding  acquaintance  with  the  his- 
tory of  these  curious  stone  formations  or  erec- 
tions is  about  all  for  which  most  travellers  will 
care. 

He  who  arrives  at  Auray  on  a  market-day 
will  seem  to  himself  to  come  into  a  region  where 
every  one  speaks  the  Breton  tongue.    Not  all, 

159 


160  Rambles  in  Brittany 

of  course,  for  French  is  now  compulsory  with 
the  school-children,  but  the  frequency  of  it  here 
in  the  booths  and  stalls  in  and  around  Auray's 
lovely  old  timbered  market-house  is  greatly  to 
be  remarked. 

It  is  a  question  if  this  same  market-house  be 
not  quite  the  most  theatrical-looking  thing  of 
its  kind  in  all  France.  It  is  for  all  the  world 
like  a  successful  piece  of  stage  carpentry,  with 
a  great  spectacular  stairway  running  up  into 
its  garret  above,  quite  in  the  manner  that  one 
has  seen  upon  the  stage  over  and  over  again, 
when  the  heroine  or  the  villain  —  it  does  not 
much  matter  which  —  escapes  from  his,  or  her, 
pursuers.  Low  built,  heavily  raftered,  and 
with  a  leaky  roof  allowing  rays  of  sunlight  to 
dribble  through  into  the  gloom  within  in  a  most 
entrancing  manner,  this  old  market-house  is 
the  centre  of  the  life  and  activity  of  the  place 
for  fifty-two  Mondays  in  each  year. 

Within  and  without  the  walls  of  the  market- 
house  is  gathered  the  most  varied  conglomera- 
tion of  wares  imaginable.  Beside  the  draper's 
counter  are  baskets  of  vegetables,  eggs,  or  fish. 
A  poor  little  calf,  tied  by  the  legs  and  lying  at 
full  length  on  the  ground,  keeps  company  with 
his  former  farmyard  neighbours,  the  ducks  and 
geese,  but  on  either  side  is  a  second-hand  col- 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        161 

lection  of  ironmongery  and  old  shoes,  and  it 
should  be  the  envy  of  the  provident,  for  two 
sous  buy  anything  in  the  collection. 

The  country-side  Breton  peasant  who  comes 
to  Auray  on  a  market-day  is  the  glass  of  fash- 
ion of  his  race,  his  jacket  embroidered  in' braid 
of  gay  colours,  and  velvet  bands  on  his  sleeves 
and  collar.  His  shirt  is  high  and  stiffly 
starched,  and  his  felt  hat  or  cap  heavily  hung 
with  velvet  ribbons.  The  womenfolk  are  clad 
in  equally  spectacular  fashion,  with  high  white 
caps  and  full-sleeved  bodices,  each  with  a  black 
velvet  band  around  the  sleeve,  and  full  gath- 
ered skirts,  spoiling  all  symmetry  of  form  as 
nature  made  it. 

The  history  of  Auray,  from  the  days  when 
it  belonged  to  John  of  Auray,  grand  huntsman 
of  Brittany,  has  left  its  mark  in  the  annals  of 
the  country  in  no  indefinite  manner.  John  of 
Montfort,  the  Counts  of  Blois,  Duguesclin,  and 
many  others  stalk  through  its  pages  of  history 
until  finally,  in  the  wars  of  religions,  it  was 
held  by  the  Catholic  army  and  the  Spaniards 
in  turn.  Its  old  chateau,  whose  foundations 
now  form  the  fine  Promenade  du  Loe,  dates 
from  the  eleventh  century;  and  it  was  recon- 
structed and  enlarged  two  centuries  later, 
finally  to  disappear,  as  the  result  of  an  order 


162 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


for  its  demolition  given  by  the  castle  destroyer, 
Henry  II.,  in  1558. 

The   port   of  Auray   is   more   daintily   and 


Shrine  of  St.   JRoch,  Auray 

charmingly  environed  than  most  seaports.  As 
it  lies  between  the  wooded,  deep-cut  banks  of 
the  little  river,  its  intermingling  of  ships  and 
salt  water,  and  country-side,  and  sailor  lads 
and  rustic  maidens,  and  all  the  motley  popula- 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        163 

tion  of  the  little  town,  is  a  marvellous  thing  to 
see. 

The  smack  of  antiquity  is  about  it  all,  and 
the  historic  legend  of  its  shrine  of  St.  Anne  — 
which  lives  as  vividly  to-day  as  ever  it  lived  — 
most  touchingly  connects  the  present  with  the 
past. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated,  and  certainly  the 
most  largely  attended,  of  all  the  "  pardons  " 
of  Brittany  is  that  held  at  St.  Anne  of  Auray, 
though  Auray  itself  is  something  more  than 
a  mere  place  of  religious  pilgrimage,  and  a 
good  deal  more  than  a  wayside  station  on  the 
railway  line  where  one  leaves  the  train  and 
hires  a  carriage  for  Carnac  and  Quiberon, 
though  apparently  not  many  tourists  know  it. 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  one  of  the  largest  and 
most  characteristic  of  all  the  little  Breton 
market-towns,  is  a  deep-water  port  of  a  con- 
siderable size,  and  has  a  hotel  which  supplies 
one  with  the  most  ample  and  delightful  meals 
that  the  traveller  will  find  westward  of  Nantes. 

This  may  be  a  mundane  standard  by  which 
to  judge  of  an  old-world  town's  appeal  to  in- 
terest, but  it  is  all-sufficient,  and  the  most  mar- 
vellous attractions  the  world  may  have  to  offer 
will  hardly  be  appreciated  by  a  travel-worn  and 
hungry  traveller,  and  such  should  plan  to  ar- 


164  Rambles  in  Brittany 

rive  in  town  for  the  Monday  dinner  at  the 
Golden  Lion ;  also  he  should  not  hurry  through 
the  town  merely  for  the  sake  of  visiting  the 
shrine  of  St.  Anne,  which  is  tawdry  enough  in 
its  general  aspect,  except  when  it  is  thronged 
on  the  great  days  of  the  "  pardon,' '  March 
seventh  and  July  twenty-fifth. 

The  great  festival  of  the  Pardon  of  St.  Anne 
of  Auray  is  held  in  July,  on  the  birthday  of  St. 
Anne,  the  mother  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  Its 
origin  dates  back  to  1623,  when  a  peasant  of 
the  country-side,  one  Yves  Nicolazic,  was  com- 
manded by  St.  Anne,  who  appeared  to  him  in 
a  vision,  to  found  a  chapel  in  her  honour  in 
the  fields  of  Bocenno,  where,  she  said,  an  an- 
cient shrine  had  existed  nearly  a  thousand 
years  earlier.  Guided  by  explicit  directions 
and  a  mysterious  star,  Yves  found  a  precious 
image,  which  ultimately  was  transported  and 
set  up  anew  in  the  church  built  at  Auray.  This 
miraculous  statue  was  lost  during  the  Bevolu- 
tion,  but  a  fragment  was  preserved  and  is  in- 
cluded in  the  present  shrine,  which  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  modern  edifice  dating  from  the 
mid-nineteenth  century. 

Near  by  is  the  miraculous  fountain,  which, 
like  others  of  its  kind  elsewhere,  is  exceedingly 
erratic  as  to  the  miracles  it  performs.    It  was 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        165 

beside  this  fountain,  then  but  a  humble  little 
rock-gushing  spring,  but  now  neatly  set  about 
with  a  concrete  basin,  that  St.  Anne  first  ap- 
peared to  Yves. 

Each  year,  by  train,  by  boat,  by  country  cart, 
and  on  foot,  pilgrims  come  from  miles  around, 
many  of  them  camping  out  the  night  by  the 
roadside,  all,  in  spite  of  the  solemn  purport  of 
their  pilgrimage,  in  the  gayest  spirits.  There 
is  always  a  certain  amount  of  discord  to  be 
encountered  at  all  these  great  festivals,  —  beg- 
gars, deformed  or  ill  with  incurable  disease, 
crippled  or  what  not,  all  expectant  of  reaping 
a  thriving  harvest  from  the  simple-minded  fre- 
quenters of  the  shrine.  Whether  deserving  or 
not,  all  of  them  appear  to  receive  liberal  alms, 
for  the  custom  of  giving  alms  is  as  much  a 
component  part  of  the  event  as  any  of  the  other 
observances,  nor  is  it  ever  frowned  upon  or 
curtailed  by  the  religious  or  civic  authorities. 

The  order  of  the  day  includes  the  massing 
of  the  pilgrims  at  open-air  services,  the  placing 
of  candles  before  the  shrine,  the  inspection  of 
the  relics  of  the  saint,  the  drinking  of,  or  bath- 
ing in,  the  miraculous  fountain,  and  sermons 
and  admonitions  uncounted,  all  in  the  Breton 
tongue,  incomprehensible  to  outsiders,  but  to 
be  taken  as  salutary.    The  great  feature  is  the 


166  Rambles  in  Brittany 

procession  of  priests  and  pilgrims,  the  former 
in  their  brilliant  vestments,  many  of  the  latter 
bearing  tall,  gaudily  coloured  candles  and  gay 
silken  banners.  Grouped  around  each  banner 
will  be  found  the  Breton  men  and  women  from 
a  particular  section,  each  group  differently  clad 
from  those  of  other  sections,  but  all  gay  with 
brilliant  colouring. 

"  Saint  Anne,  pray  for  us!  "  is  the  cry  one 
would  hear  were  it  in  English,  or  "  Saint e 
Anne,  priez  pour  nous  "  in  French;  in  Breton, 
its  sadness  is  indescribable,  more  like  the  wail 
of  a  banshee  than  anything  else. 

Usually  the  Bishop  of  Vannes  delivers  an 
exhortation,  in  the  Breton  tongue,  of  course, 
from  the  top  of  the  Holy  Steps,  after  which  the 
throng  —  or,  at  least,  such  as  are  truly  and 
sincerely  devout  —  climb  to  the  top  on  their 
knees.  According  to  the  printed  notice  at  the 
foot,  each  step  mounted  on  the  bended  knee, 
accompanied  of  course  by  a  prayer,  is  good  for 
a  nine  years'  absolution  of  a  soul  in  purgatory. 
In  the  cloister  behind  the  church  is  a  great  cru- 
cifix, in  which  the  peasant  pilgrims  stick  pins, 
each  recording  a  prayer  said  or  a  vow  made. 

On  the  night  of  July  twenty-sixth,  St.  Anne 's 
Day,  a  grand  torchlight  procession  marches. 
The  "  Marche  aux  Flambeaux,"  a  celebrated 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        167 

painting  by  Jules  Breton,  now  owned  in  Amer- 
ica, well  shows  the  effect  of  one  of  these  great 
demonstrations,  except  that  it  lacks  the  weird- 
ness  of  the  sombre  background  of  night  it- 
self. 

This  ends  the  great  days  of  the  pardon,  but 
throughout  the  year  pilgrims  make  their  way 
to  the  shrine  to  say  a  prayer,  or  to  drink  or 
bathe  in  the  waters  of  the  fountain,  or  perhaps 
to  carry  a  jugful  home  to  some  bedridden  mem- 
ber of  their  families. 

Among  the  offerings  in  fulfilment  of  vows 
made  at  the  shrine  of  Ste.  Anne  d 'Auray  are 
a  number  of  very  ancient  inscriptions,  such  as 
the  following  best  illustrate: 

"  William  Genin,  bitten  by  a  mad  dog,  vowed 
himself  to  St.  Anne  and  obtained  a  perfect  cure 
in  1631." 

"  Helen  Sausse,  abandoned  by  her  mother, 
vomited  a  two-headed  snake  and  recovered  her 
health." 

On  the  way  from  Auray  to  Plouharnel,  Car- 
nac,  Quiberon,  and  Locmariaquer  are  worth 
one  day  or  three,  accordingly  as  one  may  feel 
inclined.  The  distance  is  not  great;  a  dozen 
kilometres  will  cover  the  journey  out,  and  a 
little  more  circuitous  return  route  will  take  in 
a  half-dozen  or  more  old  centres  of  a  civiliza- 


168 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


tion  of  which  all  knowledge  is  lost  in  the  night 
of  time. 

Whatsoever  the  great  megalithic  monuments 
of  Carnac  may  mean,  certain  it  is  that  they  tell 
—  or  could  tell  if  one  could  feel  sure  he  under- 
stood it  correctly  —  a  story  quite  out  of  keep- 
ing with  the  manners  and  customs  of  to-day. 


The  Lines  of  Carnac 

Like  the  tall,  gaunt  windmills  plentifully  be- 
sprinkled hereabouts,  these  great  stones  rear 
their  heads  skyward  in  fashion  most  strange. 
Long  rows  of  them,  like  files  of  soldiers,  or 
like  the  trees  of  the  forest,  stand  to-day  for 
the  curious  to  marvel  at,  as  they  stood  so  long- 
ago  that  their  origin  is  not  to  be  definitely 
traced. 

Of  the  Lines  of  Carnac,  as  the  strange  popu- 


K 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        169 

lation  of  tombstone-looking  monoliths  is  known, 
much  has  been  written  by  antiquaries,  archae- 
ologists, and  geologists  ever  .since  the  tide  of 
travel  set  this  way.  What  these  stones  actually 
mean  —  some  thousands  of  them  in  all,  set  out 
in  regular  rows  —  only  a  vain,  presumptuous 
person  could  answer.  They  offer  a  prospect 
of  a  strange  grandeur,  for  they  really  are 
grand,  if  not  stupendous,  and,  as  they  stretch 
away  in  long,  silent  lines  almost  to  the  horizon, 
they  are  as  phantoms  looming  to-day  out  of 
the  mysterious  past  to  which  they  belong. 

There  are  three  great  companies  of  these 
menhirs  here.  Those  of  Menec,  composed  of 
1,169  members  in  eleven  ranks;  of  Kermario, 
1,120  members  in  ten  rows;  and  of  Kerlescan, 
thirteen  rows  made  up  of  579  individual  stones. 

Carnac  has  another  ancient  monument  in  the 
tumulus  of  Mont  St.  Michel,  which,  like  other 
elevations  bearing  the  same  name,  is  a  sky- 
nearing  little  peak  of  land  which  supposedly 
formed  a  firm  earthly  foothold  for  the  arch- 
angel. 

The  parish  church  of  Carnac  is  dedicated 
to  St.  Comely,  who,  according  to  legend,  lived 
in  the  neighbourhood  and  was  many  times 
saved  from  an  untimely  death  by  the  oxen  of 
the  region.     Just  how  this  was  accomplished 


170 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


no  one  seems  to  know,  but  enough  of  the  tra- 
dition still  lives  to  inspire  a  grand  celebration 
on  the  saint 's  day,  the  thirteenth  of  September, 
when  many  animals  are  offered  up  to  him,  as 


Map  of  Carnac   and  the   Surrounding  Country 

one  learns  from  the  kindly,  tall-coifed  guar- 
dian of  the  church. 

The  painted  ceilings  of  the  Church  of  St.  Cor- 
nely  are  remarkable  works  of  art,  if  not  for 
their  excellence,  at  least  for  their  ingenuity. 
The  north  porch  is  an  astonishing  Renaissance 
addition,    which,    from   its    curves    and    curls, 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        171 

would  seem  to  be  the  precursor  of  "  I' art  nou~ 


veau." 


To  the  westward  of  Carnac,  at  the  shore- 
end  of  the  peninsula  of  Quiberon,  is  Plouharnel, 
another  centre  around  which  are  grouped  many 
curious  stone  monuments. 

The  Chapel  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Flowers  is 
a  singularly  beautiful  small  church  built  of  the 
granite  of  the  country.  It  contains  a  notable 
bas-relief  in  alabaster  in  the  form  of  what  is 
known  in  ecclesiastical  art  as  a  "  Jesse  Tree." 

Just  why  the  promoters  of  a  railway  had  the 
temerity  to  push  it  to  the  very  end  of  the  snake- 
like peninsula  of  Quiberon  is  a  problem  which 
will  ever  remain  unsolved  so  far  as  the  general 
public  is  concerned.  Stendhal  has  written  some 
gloomy  views  of  scenes  enacted  at  Fort  Penthi- 
evre,  half-way  down  the  peninsula,  and  Victor 
Hugo  wrote  of  the  same  times  (now  a  hundred 
years  ago) : 

"  Mourir  plus  d'un  soldat  a  son  prince  fidele, 
un  pretre  fidele  a  son  Dieu." 

The  aspect  of  this  long,  narrow  peninsula  is 
everywhere  the  same,  from  its  juncture  with 
the  mainland  to  the  sandy  point  fifteen  kilo- 
metres away,  from  which  one  sees  the  flash  of 
the  twinkling  light  on  Belle  He. 

Quiberon  has  what  may  almost  be  called  an 


172  Rambles  in  Brittany 

ideal  hotel,  except  that  it  is  unworldly  and  not 
the  least  new.  A  travelling  salesman,  whom 
we  met  at  Auray,  told  us  that  it  was  kept  by 
an  old  cook,  one  of  the  Vatels  of  the  stove. 
Simple  and  modest,  but  clean  withal  as  the 
proverbial  door-step  of  Holland,  it  is  one  of 
those  inns  that  the  traveller  loves  out  of  sheer 
inability  to  find  fault  with  it. 

Quiberon  has  two  ports,  Port  Haliguen  and 
Port  Maria,  both  in  danger  of  becoming  popu- 
lar seaside  resorts,  for  the  guide-books  are  al- 
ready describing  them  as  places  where  the 
sojourn  will  be  agreeable  for  persons  of  simple 
habits. 

The  fish-market  of  Quiberon  is  one,  if  not 
the  chief,  of  its  sights  for  the  student  of  man- 
ners and  customs.  "  Cinq  lubines  pour  douze 
francs  et  deux  cent  quarante  maquereaux  pour 
trente-un  francs  "  was  the  way  the  market  ran 
on  the  occasion  of  the  visit  of  the  author,  all 
of  which  argues  that  Quiberon  is  a  good  place 
for  the  fish  to  come. 

The  lobsters,  too,  are  a  great  feature  of  the 
trade  here,  and  are  sold  by  their  length,  meas- 
uring from  the  eye  up  to  the  first  scale  of  their 
tails.  An  average  price  is  rather  over  four 
sous,  and  Paris  takes  the  best  of  the  lot. 
They  travel  first-class  and  by  express,  the  lob- 


O) 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        173 

sters  of  Quiberon,  when  they  take  their  first 
and  last  voyage  to  the  "  shining  city,"  and 
there  are  plenty  of  friends  awaiting  them  at 
the  station.  They  invariably  arrive  at  the  fish- 
market  for  the  earliest  sales,  and  at  noon  the 
epicure  may  eat  them  at  Marguery's,  which 
sounds  like  a  French  version  of  the  "  Alice  in 
Wonderland  "  tale. 

One  hour  from  Quiberon,  by  a  tiny  steam- 
boat, and  one  finds  himself  skirting  the  cliff 
walls  surrounding  and  sheltering  the  little  port 
and  town  of  Palais  on  Belle  He,  overlooked 
by  the  powerful  citadel  built  by  Vauban,  who, 
as  the  fortress-builder  of  France,  stood  in  his 
profession  where  Napoleon  did  in  his. 

This  "  plus  belle  tie  de  V ocean  "  has  forty- 
eight  kilometres  of  coast-line,  and  every  one 
of  them  has  been  so  cut  and  serrated  by  the 
action  of  the  waves  that  the  island  would  form 
a  veritable  ocean  graveyard  were  it  situated  on 
the  direct  line  of  travel  by  sea. 

For  the  most  part,  visitors  content  them- 
selves with  making  an  excursion  to  the  north- 
erly end  of  the  island,  a  visit  to  the  apothe- 
cary's grotto,  and  another  to  the  lantern  of  the 
great  lighthouse,  which  at  night  sends  its  elec- 
tric rays  far  out  to  sea. 

What  tourists  may  not  do  is  to  roam  over 


174  Rambles  in  Brittany 

the  old  citadel  now  occupied  as  a  national  fort, 
and  this  is  a  pity,  for  there  they  might  conjure 
up  a  reminder  of  other  days  that  would  be  like 
a  chapter  out  of  Dumas. 

The  citadel  was  built  by  Marshal  de  Retz 
in  1572,  and  was  the  refuge  of  the  cardinal  of 
the  same  name  when  he  fled  from  Nantes  in 
1653.  Not  far  away  is  the  Chateau  Fouquet. 
Nicholas  Fouquet,  Marquis  of  Belle  He,  was 
Superintendent  of  Finance  under  the  regency 
of  Anne  of  Austria,  and  continued  the  impor- 
tant office  after  the  accession  of  Louis  XIV. 
The  concensus  of  opinion  is  that  Fouquet  was 
insinuating,  specious,  hypocritical,  and  sensual. 
It  was  at  the  great  fete  given  by  Fouquet  at 
Vaux  that  the  king  planned  his  arrest,  "  fear- 
ing he  would  escape  to  Belle  He,"  then  thought 
to  be  an  impregnable  fortress.  Both  in  the 
pages  of  the  historians  and  in  the  romances 
of  Dumas  one  may  read  the  story. 

Belle-Ile-en-Mer,  also,  was  made  the  home 
of  Aramis  after  Dumas  had  given  him  epis- 
copal rank.  The  minute  details  given  in  "  Le 
Vicomte  de  Bragelonne  "  would  form  an  ad- 
mirable supplement  to  any  guide-book. 

The  great  Sara  Bernhardt  has  of  recent 
years  made  her  home  on  this  barren  and  deso- 
late isle.     It  is  not  altogether  desolate,  how- 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        175 

ever,  for  there  are  hotels  at  Palais  and  Sauzon, 
and  tourists,  solitary  and  in  droves,  are  con- 
tinually making  excursions  thither  in  the  sea- 
son from  the  neighbouring  Breton  coast,  from 
Vannes,  Quiberon,  or  Lorient. 

Although  Belle  He  is  only  a  pin-head  on  most 
maps  of  France,  it  has  a  considerable  popula- 
tion. Palais  is  a  town  of  five  thousand  souls, 
and  Sauzon  counts  something  over  sixteen  hun- 
dred, and  so  Belle  He,  being  only  about  21,000 
acres  in  extent,  is  a  very  thickly  populated  part 
of  the  globe. 

Returning  to  the  mainland,  a  call  at  Loc- 
mariaquer  is  inevitable,  if  one  be  a  true  and 
genuine  traveller,  even  if  it  be  "  out  of  the 
world/'  which  virtually  it  is,  being  at  the  tip 
end  of  another  peninsula  like  that  of  Quiberon. 

The  town  itself  owns  to  fifteen  hundred  or 
more  souls,  and  all  of  them  look  prosperous 
and  contented.  Where  all  of  them  get  their 
livelihood,  it  is  difficult  to  see,  for  there  is  not 
much  intercourse  with  the  outside  world. 

Locmariaquer  has  not  even  a  railway,  as  Qui- 
beron has,  but  lies  twenty  kilometres  or  so 
south  of  Auray,  almost  at  the  mouth  of  Morbi- 
han  Bay.  The  church  of  Locmariaquer  is  a 
fine  twelfth-century  work,  but  the  foundation 
of  the  little  town  lies  much  farther  back  in 


176  Rambles  in  Brittany 

antiquity  than  this.  It  was  the  ancient  Doriori- 
gum  of  the  Eonians. 

The  Chapel  of  St.  Michel  is  built  up  from 
the  Roman  remains  of  a  structure  known  as 
er  c 'hast  el. 

The  great  celebrities  of  Locmariaquer  are, 
however,  those  members  of  the  great  family 
of  menhirs,  dolmens,  and  cromlechs  with  which 
this  part  of  Morbihan  is  so  thickly  strewn.  The 
chief  of  these  are  the  dolmen  known  as  Mane- 
Lud,  Mountain  of  Ashes,  of  vast  dimensions 
and  having  a  grotto  beneath  it.  Not  far  off  is  a 
tumulus  and  another  dolmen  known  as  Dol-er- 
Groh,  an  enormous  stone  table  or  altar.  An- 
other is  known  as  Mane-er-H 'roeck,  the  stone 
of  the  fairies ;  it  is  quite  seventy  feet  long,  or 
was,  for  it  now  lies  full  length  on  the  ground 
broken  into  four  pieces.  The  finest  and  best 
preserved  of  all  is  the  Dol-ar-Marc'hadouiren, 
the  Merchants '  Table.  It  is  hard  to  see  just 
the  significance  of  the  name  given  to  these 
three  huge  stones,  but  they  form  a  wonderfully 
impressive  monument  of  days  gone  by,  never- 
theless. 

The  most  beautiful  dolmen  known,  whatever 
that  description  may  really  mean  (the  local 
renter  of  boats  calls  it  such:  "  le  plus  beau 
dolmen  connu  "),  can  be  visited  only  by  boat. 


Auray  and  the  Monuments        177 

It  is  on  an  island  in  the  gulf,  and  is  known  as 
the  Gavr'inis. 

La  Trinite,  ' '  a  little  village  on  the  very  edge 
of  the  sea  "  !  This  is  a  description  which  ex- 
actly fits  what  the  natives  and  the  railway 
powers  like  to  think  is  a  watering-place.  It  is 
something  like  one,  to  be  sure,  but  the  influx 
of  strangers  during  the  summer  months  has 
never  been  so  great  as  to  obliterate  or  even  to 
deaden  the  local  colour.  Its  little  harbour  is 
lively  with  fishing-boats,  and  occasionally  gay, 
when  the  boats  are  "  dressed  "  for  some  great 
festival,  but  nothing  of  blatant  bands  and 
riotous  crowds  mars  the  quietness  and  sweet- 
ness of  La  Trinite,  and  accordingly  it  is  a  place 
to  be  remembered. 

Sometimes  the  sterility  of  the  soil  round 
about  causes  real  distress  among  the  small 
farming  peasants;  "  one  cannot  live  on  fish 
alone,"  they  say. 

There  is  a  local  benefactress  who,  when 
crops  are  poor  and  meagre,  gives  the  whole  of 
her  own  harvest  gathered  from  an  unusually 
ample  holding  to  her  more  distressed  neigh- 
bours. This  is  a  true  and  practical  charity 
that  does  not  smack  of  smugness  or  pretence 
as  do  many  acts  questionably  classed  under 
that  head.     It  is  a  singularly  expressive  ex- 


178  Rambles  in  Brittany 

emplification  of  what  the  French  know  as 
"  good  socialism,"  and  one  hears  much  of  it 
at  La  Trinite  and  in  its  neighbourhood. 

Taking  to  the  road  again,  on  the  way  to 
Auray,  one  passes  another  of  those  curious 
granitic  formations.  This  time  it  comes  down 
more  near  our  own  day,  and  is  called  the  "  St. 
Tiviro's  hat."  It  does  not  look  the  least  like 
the  saint's  hat,  any  more  than  the  "  devil's 
seats  "  and  the  "  old  men  of  the  mountains," 
scattered  about  the  world,  look  like  what  they 
are  called  —  but  let  that  pass.  Legend  connects 
this  rock  with  a  certain  St.  Tiviro,  who  one  day 
lost  his  hat,  which  ultimately  turned  to  stone. 
It  does  not  seem  plausible,  and  it  is  a  pointless 
story  indeed,  but  it  gives  a  small  child  the  op- 
portunity to  point  it  out  for  a  penny,  which 
most  folk  will  not  grudge. 


CHAPTER   V. 

MORBIHAN LORIENT    AND    ITS    NEIGHBOURHOOD 

Three  towns  of  Morbihan  little  known,  still 
less  visited  by  travellers  in  Brittany,  lie  within 
a  comparatively  small  area  just  north  of  the 
coast,  and  their  names  are  Lorient,  Hennebont, 
and  Pont  Scorff. 

The  very  name  Lorient  will  appeal  to  many. 
It  suggests  the  great  trade  with  the  East,  in  full 
swing  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies, when  the  town  grew  up  as  a  necessary 
part  of  a  vast  commerce.  Some  of  the  old-time 
romantic  picturesqueness  of  the  shipping  has 
disappeared,  and  the  Hotels  "  Royal  Sword  " 
and  "  White  Horse  "  have  given  way  to  the 
Hotels  "  Modern' '  and  "of  France,"  with 
electric  lights  and  sheds  for  motor-cars,  but 
there  is  still  a  distinguishing  excellence  to  be 
remarked  which  makes  Lorient  a  place  well 
worth  visiting. 

It  was  in  the  seventeenth  century  that  an 
association  of  Breton  merchants,  who  were  car- 
no 


180  Rambles  in  Brittany 

rying  on  the  trade  with  the  East  Indies,  first 
built  their  warehouses  here.  The  traffic  grew 
to  proportions  so  considerable  that  Louis  XIV. 
ultimately  gave  letters  patent  for  the  founda- 
tion of  a  new  and  grander  East  India  Company. 

The  company  erected  ship-houses  here,  and 
the  name  Lorient  was  given  to  the  settlement, 
which  was  fast  growing  to  a  prime  importance 
among  the  ports  of  France.  An  English  fleet, 
under  Admiral  Lestock,  landed  some  six  or 
seven  thousand  men  in  the  bay  of  Poldu,  at 
twelve  kilometres  west  of  Lorient,  and  marched 
upon  the  town  as  a  revenge  for  certain  attacks 
upon  British  interests  in  the  East. 

The  English  met  with  no  great  triumph  here, 
but  Louis  XV.  was  indifferent  enough  to  allow 
many  of  the  French  settlements  in  the  Indies 
to  be  taken,  and  this  led  to  the  rapid  decadence 
of  the  great  East  India  Company  and  its  port. 
Napoleon  resuscitated  it,  as  he  did  many  an- 
other decaying  institution  in  France,  and  de- 
veloped the  industry  of  the  port  to  such  an 
extent  that  Lorient  became  one  of  the  principal 
maritime  towns  of  France.  Its  past  history 
sounds  romantic  enough,  but  there  is  little  of 
romance  about  the  life  of  its  streets  and 
wharves  to-day;  instead,  there  is  activity  not 
admitting  even  the  thought  of  romance.     Jan- 


Morbihan  181 


gling  gongs  of  tram-cars,  the  puffing  of  loco- 
motives, and  the  shrieks  of  the  sirens,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  accompaniment  of  belching  chim- 
ney-stacks and  the  sound  of  the  riveting  ham- 
mers in  the  great  shipyards,  all  testify  that 
Lorient  is  living  in  the  age  of  progress. 

Local  sights,  outside  this  marvellous  exposi- 
tion of  modern  spirit,  are  few.  There  is  a 
municipal  museum,  containing  some  good  mod- 
ern pictures,  many  of  them  of  Breton  subjects, 
but  there  are  no  ecclesiastical  or  architectural 
monuments  worthy  of  remark.  The  commer- 
cial harbour  and  the  dockyard  are  decidedly 
the  most  interesting  features.  Within  the  walls 
of  the  latter  is  the  parade-ground,  which  serves 
as  a  fine  promenade  for  the  population  of  Lori- 
ent when  the  military  band  plays  on  summer 
evenings. 

The  roadstead  of  Lorient  is  a  great  deep- 
water  harbour,  which  can  shelter  the  largest 
ships  afloat.  It  is  guarded  by  six  great  lights, 
one  of  them  in  the  cupola  of  the  Church  of  St. 
Louis.  This  is  one  of  the  very  few  instances 
where  a  great  city  church  is  a  mariner's  bea- 
con, besides  performing  its  other  functions  on 
behalf  of  lost  souls. 

Opposite  Lorient  is  Port  Louis,  founded  a 
century  before  its  bigger  sister.     Anciently  it 


182  Rambles  in  Brittany 

was  known  as  Blavet,  but  took  its  present  name 
in  honour  of  Louis  XIII.  Its  walls  were  begun 
in  1652. 

In  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Lorient 
and  Port  Louis  are  many  delightful  little  sea- 
side places,  hardly  popular  resorts  in  any  sense 
of  the  word,  but  all  the  better  for  that,  where 
one  may  get  such  views  of  sea  and  shore  and 
shipping  of  all  ranks  as  is  hardly  to  be  found 
elsewhere  on  the  Breton  coast. 

Up  the  little  river  Blavet,  at  the  head  of 
deep-sea  navigation,  is  Hennebont,  a  most  de- 
lightfully disposed  little  place,  which  has  been 
called  the  pearl  of  the  Blavet.  Like  most  of 
the  tidal  rivers  of  France,  the  Blavet,  on  its 
lower  reaches,  offers  about  the  most  paintable 
of  all  landscapes  imaginable.  This,  with  the 
Auray,  the  Aven,  the  Scorff,  and  the  Elle,  would 
prove  a  sketching-ground  quite  inexhaustible, 
in  the  variety  of  its  moods,  to  the  artist  of  an 
average  length  of  life. 

Hennebont,  which  has  eight  thousand  or 
more  inhabitants  and  a  delightful  inn,  electric- 
lighted  though  it  be,  is  divided  into  the  new 
town  and  the  fortified  town.  It  sits  beside  the 
river's  bank,  and  crosses  on  a  bridge  of  three 
arches.  Above,  the  river  dwindles  to  a  mere 
rivulet,  but  below  the  incoming  tides  will  bring 


**&'* 


H en  neb  on  t 


Morbihan  183 


craft  of  a  tonnage  of  three  hundred  or  more 
straight  to  the  heart  of  the  town.  A  tonnage 
of  three  hundred  does  not  mean  much  to  the 
travellers  by  twenty-thousand-ton  steamships, 
but  assuredly  when  one  sees  one  of  these  little 
craft,  with  their  three  slender  square-rigged 
masts,  by  the  soft  light  of  the  full  moon,  in  the 
little  Breton  port  of  Hennebont,  it  looks  like 
the  phantom  ship,  whose  masts  and  spars 
"  cross  the  moon  like  prison  bars." 

Hennebont  derives  its  name  from  the  Breton 
words  for  old  bridge.  The  first  lord  of  the 
place,  Huelin  of  Hennebont,  lived  in  1037.  The 
fortified  town  was,  of  course,  the  earlier  foun- 
dation, the  new  town  only  coming  into  exist- 
ence in  the  sixteenth  century,  when  the  great 
Church  of  Our  Lady  of  Paradise  was  still  in 
the  open  country. 

Trade  follows  the  flag,  but  habitations  follow 
the  church,  and  so,  when  this  great  Gothic  edi- 
fice was  built  in  1513  -  30,  it  began  to  draw  the 
houses  of  the  city  dwellers  around  it,  and  now 
the  fortified  town  is  practically  non-existent 
except  as  a  quarter. 

This  church  is  a  wonder-work  of  its  kind, 
considering  its  great  size,  its  graceful  lines,  and 
its  ornamental  Gothic  spire,  rising  to  a  height 
which  must  approximate  three  hundred  feet. 


184  Rambles  in  Brittany 

The  ancient  ramparts  of  the  old  fortified 
town  appear  here  and  there  along  the  river- 
bank,  in  the  well-preserved  gateway  which  one 
passes  on  the  left  after  leaving  the  river  on 
the  way  to  the  church,  and  in  yet  another  frag- 
ment —  a  great  circular  tower  —  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  aforesaid  excellent  Hotel  de  France. 

The  old  castle  of  Hennebont,  of  which  some- 
thing more  than  fragments  still  remain,  saw 
the  death  of  Comte  Charles  of  Blois,  who,  es- 
caping from  his  dungeon  in  one  of  the  towers 
of  the  old  Louvre  at  Paris,  came  here  in  1345. 
One  may  read  in  Froissart  of  the  defence  of 
Hennebont  by  Jeanne  of  Montfort  in  1342. 

There  are  many  old  gabled  houses  at  Henne- 
bont, most  fantastic  in  form,  one  of  which,  bear- 
ing the  inscription,  "  Le  Levic,  1600,"  is  per- 
haps the  most  ancient  of  any  built  without  the 
walls  of  the  fortified  town. 

The  great  fortified  gateway,  which  gives  ac- 
cess to  the  old  citadel,  is  a  fine  ogival  work 
flanked  by  two  massive  machicolated  towers. 
This  old  district  is  quite  the  most  curious  and 
unworldly  feature  of  this  little  city  by  the 
Blavet. 

It  is  a  veritable  town  of  the  middle  ages,  yet 
unspoiled  and  quite  as  it  was  in  the  olden  days, 
when  its  sturdy  walls  gave  protection  against 


Morbihan  185 


the  invader,  and  its  great  gates  opened  only 
upon  the  orders  of  the  governor. 

In  suburban  Hennebont,  scarce  a  kilometre 
away,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Blavet,  are  to  be 
seen  the  remains  of  the  old  Abbaye  de  la  Joie, 
a  famous  establishment  of  the  monks  of  the 
Cistercian  order.  It  was  founded  in  the  thir- 
teenth century  by  Blanche  of  Champagne,  wife 
of  John  the  Red-haired.  One  still  sees  her 
statue  in  wood  and  bronze,  but  the  conventual 
buildings  themselves  have  come  to  base  uses, 
and  are  now  a  horse-breeding  establishment. 

Pont  Scorff,  so  far  as  its  situation  is  con- 
cerned, resembles  Hennebont.  It  spans  the 
tiny  river  Scorff,  and  the  views  along  the  banks 
are  in  every  way  equally  delightful  with  those 
on  the  Blavet.  Pont  Scorff,  however,  has  not 
the  magnitude  or  the  antiquity  of  Hennebont, 
and  its  two  parts  are  known  as  the  upper  town 
and  the  lower  town. 

The  most  ancient  building  here  is  the  Chapel 
of  St.  John  of  the  old  commandery  of  St.  John 
du  Faouet;  it  dates  at  least  from  the  thirteenth 
century.  There  is  a  fine  Renaissance  house  in 
the  little  public  square,  called  the  House  of  the 
Princes.  It  is  richly  decorated  and  has  a  fine 
series  of  dormer  windows  and  a  row  of  pilas- 
ters bearing  the  symbols  of  the  Rohan  family. 


186  Rambles  in  Brittany 

There  is  another  ancient  house,  formerly  be- 
longing, it  is  believed,  to  the  Templars.  The 
parish  Church  of  St.  Albin  dates  only  from 
1610,  and  is  in  no  way  a  remarkable  work. 

The  Chapel  of  Notre  Dame  de  Kergornet, 
a  fifteenth-century  edifice  near  by,  is  a  place  of 
pilgrimage  for  the  Breton  nurses,  that  great 
race  of  foster-mothers  who  care  for  the  thou- 
sands of  Parisian  children  in  the  Bois,  or  the 
gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  or  the  Luxembourg. 

From  this  point,  as  one  journeys  westward, 
he  leaves  pretty  much  all  France  behind  him. 
The  modern  Department  of  Finistere,  the 
"  Land's  End  "  of  the  French,  is  all  that  lies 
between  him  and  the  vast  heaving  Atlantic. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

FINISTEKE SOUTH 

At  Quimperle  one  makes  his  first  acquaint- 
ance with  that  part  of  the  Armorican  peninsula 
known  to-day  on  the  maps  of  France  as  the 
Department  of  Finistere.  This  charming  little 
town  is  of  itself  of  great  importance,  as  mark- 
ing the  dividing-line  between  the  dialect  of 
Vannes  and  that  of  the  western  peninsula. 
There  is  no  great  difference  to  be  noted  by 
the  casual  traveller,  since  all  of  the  younger 
population  speak  the  French  tongue,  —  some- 
times exclusively,  —  but  there  is  an  unmistak- 
able modification  of  manners  and  customs 
toward  the  more  theatrical  aspect  which  one 
best  sees  at  Pont  Aven,  Pont  PAbbe,  and  the 
little  fishing  villages  around  the  Bay  of  Dou- 
arnenez. 

Of  the  women  of  Quimperle  much  has  been 
remarked  by  all  who  have  ever  lingered  within 
its  walls.  They  are  "  superb  in  type,  elegant 
and    gracious,"    we    were    told    by    a    French 

187 


188  Rambles  in  Brittany 

artist  who  had  set  up  his  easel  on  the  quay. 
But  there  is  no  need  to  tell  anybody;  even  a 
woman-hater  would  remark  it.  Certainly  this 
is  as  good  an  entrance  to  a  new  and  strange 
land  as  heart  could  desire. 

Quimperle  lies  on  both  sides  of  the  little  river 
Elle,  which,  like  the  other  streams  of  the  South 
Breton  coast,  is  a  special  variety  of  waterway 
quite  unlike  their  more  pretentious  brothers 
and  sisters  elsewhere.  The  country  round 
about  has  been  called  the  "  Arcadia  of  Lower 
Brittany,' '  and  so  it  will  strike  even  the  least 
observant  of  travellers  —  after  he  has  recov- 
ered from  the  effects  of  the  glances  of  those 
elegant  and  gracious  females. 

The  most  ancient  part  of  the  little  city  is 
that  known  as  the  walled  town,  grouped  around 
the  ancient  Abbey  of  Holy  Cross,  on  that 
tongue  of  land  which  separates  the  Isole  and 
the  Elle.  The  escarpment  is  badly  built  up, 
but  withal  it  is  ruggedly  picturesque,  abound- 
ing in  old  houses,  some  of  which  have  stood 
since  the  thirteenth  century. 

The  site  of  the  old  Abbey  of  Holy  Cross  was 
known  in  the  sixth  century  as  Anaurot,  and 
became  the  refuge  of  one  of  the  Breton  Kings 
of  Cambria,  who,  abdicating,  came  here  and 
built  a  hermitage,  which  in  time  was  converted 


Quimperle 


Finistere  189 


into  an  abbey  of  Benedictines.  This  old  Abbey 
of  Holy  Cross,  as  it  exists  to-day,  has  a  ground- 
plan  which  more  nearly  follows  that  of  a  four- 
armed  cross  than  any  other  extant  in  Chris- 
tendom. The  same  motive  doubtless  inspired 
its  builders  as  that  which  induced  the  archi- 
tects of  Charlemagne  to  erect  that  famous 
round  church  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  which  in  real- 
ity it  greatly  resembles  in  general  features; 
both  went  back  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sep- 
ulchre at  Jerusalem  for  their  initial  idea. 

This  church  at  Quimperle  is  one  of  the  three 
or  four  in  all  Brittany  having  a  crypt,  and  it 
is  more  amply  endowed  with  interior  furnish- 
ings and  fitments  than  many  a  grander  edifice. 
Altogether  it  is  an  ecclesiastical  monument  of 
the  first  importance. 

It  has  a  companion,  moreover,  of  no  mean 
rank,  either,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Michael, 
which  sits  high  on  the  hilltop  and  dominates 
nearly  every  vista  of  the  town. 

After  a  tempestuous  past  extending  from  the 
monastic  foundation  of  the  sixth  century,  Anau- 
rot,  or  Quimperle  as  it  had  become  meantime, 
surrendered  to  Duguesclin  in  1373.  Finally, 
when  a  treaty  had  been  signed  with  the  League 
as  to  future  neutrality,  the  city  walls  were  de- 
molished (in  1680),  and  Quimperle  settled  down 


190  Rambles  in  Brittany 

to  a  peaceful  existence,  which  is  only  broken 
on  the  year's  great  feast-days,  or  on  the  days 
of  the  pardons,  —  that  of  the  Passion  in  March, 
the  Pardon  of  the  Birds  on  Whit-Monday,  the 
second  day  of  May,  or  the  last  Sunday  of  July. 

One  or  the  other  of  these  dates  should  be 
made  to  correspond  with  one's  itinerary,  when 
one  will  see  the  real  Lower  Breton  as  he  seldom 
appears  outside  a  picture.  Near  Quimperle  is 
the  little  coast  station  of  Pouldu,  where  fig- 
trees,  the  hydrangea,  and  other  plants  of  the 
Midi  bloom  throughout  the  year. 

Needless  to  say  that  it  may  some  day  become 
a  really  popular  and  populous  seaside  resort, 
with  casinos  and  alleged  Hungarian  bands,  but 
that  day  may  be  far  distant,  and  any  one  look- 
ing for  an  unspoiled  seaside  resting-place  need 
not  hesitate  to  go  out  of  his  way  to  give  a 
glance  to  this  altogether  delightful  little  port 
of  Pouldu.  There  is  nothing  like  it,  nothing 
so  unaffected  and  unspoiled,  on  the  whole  Bre- 
ton coast.  On  the  way  to  Pouldu  one  passes 
the  important  ruins  of  the  ancient  Abbey  of 
St.  Maurice,  founded  in  1170  by  the  Duke 
Conan  IV.,  and  the  place  where  Maurice  —  a 
monk  of  Langonnet  since  become  sainted  —  was 
buried  in  1191.  In  part,  this  fine  ruin  dates 
from  the  thirteenth  century,  to  which  period 


Finistere  191 


belong  the  chapter-room  and  the  chapel,  the 
principal  features  still  remaining  intact. 

Near  Quimperle  is  St.  Fiacre,  whom  some 
unknowing  person  has  called  the  patron  saint 
of  the  Paris  cabman,  an  individual  who  has 
not  much  regard  for  anything  saintly. 

There  is  a  beautiful  fifteenth-century  chapel 
at  St.  Fiacre,  though  to-day  it  is  greatly  marred 
by  wind,  weather,  and  barbarous  customs. 
Each  year,  in  June,  there  is  an  important  fair 
held  at  St.  Fiacre,  at  which  the  young  men  from 
round  about  offer  themselves  for  employment. 
Each  of  them  carries  a  rod  or  switch.  To  en- 
gage one  who  seems  a  likely  person  for  your 
purpose,  you,  or  the  young  man  before  your 
eyes,  —  after  a  parley,  —  break  the  rod,  and  he 
immediately  becomes  a  member  of  your  do- 
mestic establishment. 

There  seems  something  rather  uncertain 
about  all  this,  but  surely  the  "  matter  of  form  " 
augurs  as  well  for  good  and  faithful  service 
as  the  average  written  "  character  "  with 
which  one  engages  a  servant  in  England. 

The  hair-cutter  appears  at  St.  Fiacre  as  at 
all  Breton  fairs.  He  is  known  as  Gerard,  and 
since  the  age  of  ten  years  he  has  been  learned 
in  the  art  of  hair-cutting.  For  a  long  time  he 
was  the  chief  barber  of  a  regiment  of  the  line, 


192  Rambles  in  Brittany 

and  he  will  tell  you  (or  he  may  not)  that  he 
has  cut  many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  heads 
in  his  time,  and  has  garnered  enough  of  a  crop 
to  carpet  the  whole  of  the  village  of  St.  Fiacre 
a  metre  deep. 

Faouet,  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  place 
of  the  same  name  in  the  Cotes  du  Nord,  is  a 
small  town  with  a  great  square,  and  a  still  more 
important  old  market-house,  which,  like  that 
at  Auray,  strikes  the  stranger  as  being  a  mar- 
vellous construction  of  wooden  beams,  and 
quite  impossible  to  duplicate  to-day,  whereas 
the  construction  is  doubtless  far  less  complex 
than  the  modern  market-houses  that  one  some- 
times meets,  —  mere  ugly  sheds  of  brick  and 
iron. 

There  is  a  never  ceasing  ebb  and  flow  of 
peasant-folk  at  the  Faouet  market,  the  busiest 
of  which  come  the  Saturday  of  Holy  Week, 
the  Friday  after  Pentecost,  the  twentieth  of 
June,  and  the  sixth  and  twenty-sixth  of  July. 

The  scene  is  too  dazzling  to  describe,  and  too 
active  to  snap-shot,  and  one  can  only  feel  its 
real  significance  by  personal  participation. 
The  transactions  are  not  of  the  stupendous 
order,  and  there  is  much  good-natured  chaff- 
ing and  bartering,  and  it  offers  a  scene  as  lively 


t 


Finistere 


193 


as  if  the  fate  of  a  nation  were  depending  on  the 
outcome. 

The  Breton  peasant  is  not  always  the  sad 
and  superstitious  individual  he  has  been  pic- 
tured, though  both  men  and  women  think  noth- 


Marlcet-day 


ing  of  embracing  the  opportunity  of  saying 
a  "  Hail  Mary  "  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Barbara, 
or  before  the  great  cross  of  stone  beside  the 
main  road,  as  they  go  into  town,  taking  to 
market  a  small  calf  or  a  brace  or  two  of  ducks, 
led  at  the  end  of  a  cord  by  their  sides. 


194  Rambles  in  Brittany 

The  Chapel  of  St.  Barbara  occupies  an  ex- 
traordinary position  three  hundred  metres  or 
more  above  the  bed  of  the  Elle,  which  bathes 
the  lower  walls  of  the  town. 

After  tradition,  the  Sieur  de  Toulbodon  was 
one  day  hunting  in  the  valley  of  the  Elle,  when 
a  terrific  storm  broke  overhead,  and  a  rock 
falling  at  his  feet  barred  the  way.  He  made 
a  vow  to  St.  Barbara  to  erect  a  chapel  here, 
because  of  his  merciful  preservation  from 
death.  The  rock  exists  to-day,  and  is  shown  to 
the  credulous,  —  at  least,  a  rock  is  shown  which 
the  credulous  believe  is  the  identical  one,  and 
accordingly  it  is  venerated;  though  why  it  is 
not  reviled,  no  one  seems  to  know. 

Near  Faouet  is  the  Abbey  of  Our  Lady  of 
Langonnet,  founded  in  1136  by  Conan  III.  of 
Brittany.  Its  fortunes  have  been  various ;  in 
E  evolutionary  times  it  served  as  quarters  for 
a  stud,  but  has  since  been  turned  over  to  relig- 
ious uses  again,  and  is  now  occupied  by  a  con- 
gregation of  the  Fathers  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

The  church,  the  chapter-room,  and  some 
other  details  still  remain,  admirably  preserved, 
to  illustrate  the  excellence  of  the  early  Gothic 
period  of  the  buildings. 

On  the  way  to  Eosporden,  one  passes  the 
principal    town    of   Bannalec,    whose    original 


Finistere  195 


name  was  Balaneck,  meaning  the  place  for 
planting  the  broom.  It  has  not  much  interest 
for  the  stranger,  unless  perchance  he  happens 
to  pass  through  it  on  the  day  of  some  local 
feast  or  celebration,  when  he  will  most  likely 
see  the  young  peasant-folk,  men  and  women, 
dancing  in  the  middle  of  the  roadway,  as  they 
do  in  the  operas.  Brittany  indeed  is  about  the 
only  place  where  one  is  likely  to  see  such  a 
phenomenon,  and,  if  by  chance  it  happen  to  be 
a  wedding  celebration,  the  diversion  will  be 
doubly  interesting. 

On  the  particular  occasion  when  the  builders 
of  this  book  passed  that  way,  a  wedding  dance 
was  actually  in  progress,  and  so  edifying  was 
the  ceremony  that  the  bride  and  groom  were 
invited  into  the  tonneau  of  our  motor-car,  and 
whirled  away  to  Rosporden  for  a  little  excur- 
sion, which  was  unpremeditated  and  unex- 
pected to  all  concerned,  and  was  probably  also 
a  unique  experience. 

Rosporden,  on  the  shore  of  the  great  lake 
of  Rosporden,  as  it  was  described  to  us,  proved 
a  disappointment.  Not  that  so  very  much  was 
expected  of  it,  but  that  so  little  was  found  in 
it.  The  lake  is  a  misnomer,  though  the  water- 
weedy  pond  near  the  church  serves  the  innu- 
merable artists  who  flock  to  the  region  as  a 


196 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


highly  interesting  foreground.     The  women  of 
Rosporden    wear    the    most    immense    bonnets 


Rosporden 
and  coifs  to  be  seen  in  all  Brittany,  and  wim- 
ples like  those  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity. 

The  church  dates  from  the  twelfth  to  the 
fifteenth  centuries,  and  is  in  every  way  an  ad- 
mirably preserved  monument. 


Finistere  197 


To  Concarneau  and  the  smell  of  the  sea  is 
a  dozen  or  fourteen  kilometres  over  a  gently 
rising  and  falling  road,  with  a  tendency  always 
to  descend  until  finally  one  coasts  down  the 
long  main  street  of  the  celebrated  fishing  port 
and  artists'  sketching-ground  (it  would  be  hard 
to  tell  in  which  aspect  it  is  the  more  famous), 
until  one  comes  to  that  famous  Great  Travel- 
lers' Hotel,  where  one  eats  of  oysters,  lobster, 
and  fresh  sardines  and  many  other  kinds  of 
sea  food  to  such  an  extent  that  one  feels  de- 
cidedly fishy,  or  at  least  thirsty. 

This  should  make  little  difference,  as  the 
coffee-room  of  that  most  excellent  hostelry  is 
likewise  excellent,  and  has  a  charming  outlook 
upon  the  wharfs  and  fishing-boats,  thus  af- 
fording as  delightful  a  method  of  accustoming 
oneself  to  strange  sights  as  could  be  imagined. 

The  fishing-boats  of  Concarneau  are  one  and 
all  great  brown- winged  gulls  that  flit  slowly 
over  the  great  bay,  going  in  and  out  with  the 
rise  and  fall  of  the  tide  all  through  the  round 
of  the  clock,  depositing  their  cargoes  on  the 
wharfs,  shifting  crews,  and  starting  off  again 
in  a  continuous  performance  of  coming  and 
going  which  never  ceases  until  their  timbers, 
from  some  untoward  cause,  fall  apart. 

As  the  boats  lie  at  the  landing,  sails  come 


198  Rambles  in  Brittany 

down  and  the  delicate  brown  and  blue  nets  go 
up  for  drying,  for  not  all  of  the  boats  have  so 
great  a  supply  that  they  can  shift  to  another 
set.  The  most  curious  effect  is  given  by  these 
blue  and  brown  nets  swinging  masthead  high, 
as  if  they  were  spider-web  sails. 

The  picturesqueness  of  the  Concarneau  fish- 
ing-boats is  undeniable.  Nothing  like  them  ex- 
ists elsewhere,  and  when  the  sardine  boats  set 
out  for  the  west,  as  the  sun  goes  down,  there 
are  as  wonderful  combinations  of  golden  yel- 
low-browns, reds,  and  purples  as  the  most 
imaginative  painter  could  possibly  conjure  on 
his  canvas. 

On  shore,  the  nets,  spread  for  drying  on  the 
wharfs  and  on  the  racks  beside  the  little  fisher- 
man's chapel  and  the  great  stone  crucifix  which 
faces  seawards,  are  of  the  deepest  blues  and 
purple-browns  in  a  bewitching  mixture. 

Not  a  white-sailed  boat  is  to  be  seen,  unless 
it  is  an  occasional  yacht  drifting  in  because 
its  owner  has  tired  of  making  the  fashionable 
harbours  where  his  guests  can  spend  the  night 
on  shore  dancing  to  the  questionable  music  of 
a  red  or  blue  coated  band. 

It  is  a  question  as  to  whether  Concarneau, 
were  it  not  the  centre  of  the  sardine  fishery, 
might  not  be  the  first   seaside   resort   of  the 


Stone  Crucifix ;  Concameau 


Finistere 


199 


world.  As  it  is,  there  are  not  a  few  who  evi- 
dently think  it  far  preferable  to  those  pseudo- 
society  watering-places,  whose  chief  attractions 
are  big  casinos  and  little  horses. 

The  hotels  of  the  place  are  in  no  sense  re- 
sort hotels,  though  they  are  fitted  with  a  mar- 
vellous convenience  and  comfort,  and  feed  one 
most  bountifully  and  excellently  on  sea  food, 


Concarneau 

wherein  fresh  sardines  and  lobsters  predom- 
inate, —  those  two  great  delicacies  of  the  Paris 
restaurant  which  here  are  the  common  food 
of  the  people,  for  Concarneau  is  one  of  the  few 
fishing  centres  of  the  world  which  keeps  some 
of  its  products  for  the  supply  of  its  own  table. 
To-day  the  town  is  composed  of  two  quar- 
ters, the  new  town,  otherwise  the  faubourg  Ste. 
Croix,  modern,  prosperous,  and  animated,  and 


200  Rambles  in  Brittany 

the  walled  town,  the  island  fort  of  the  middle 
ages. 

In  1373,  Concarneau  was  occupied  by  an  Eng- 
lish garrison,  who  fled  before  Duguesclin.  In 
1488,  the  Viscount  of  Eohan  reduced  it  by  order 
of  Charles  VIII.,  but  the  Marshal  de  Rieux 
retook  it  from  the  French  the  following  year, 
and  repaired  and  strengthened  the  old  forti- 
fications. 

The  religious  wars  played  their  part  here 
most  vividly,  until  finally  it  fell  to  the  hands 
of  Henry  IV. 

The  walled  town  to-day  is  a  remarkable  ex- 
ample of  an  isolated  fort  or  citadel,  the  islet 
upon  which  it  is  situated  being  of  a  confined 
area  and  wholly  surrounded  by  a  thick  granite 
rampart,  which,  however  invulnerable  it  may 
have  been  in  a  former  day,  would  stand  no 
chance  against  modern  guns. 

In  part,  these  fortifications  date  from  the 
fourteenth  century,  and  at  high  water  are  en- 
tirely surrounded  by  the  sea.  The  great  bas- 
tion attributed  to  the  former  Duchess  Anne 
—  after  she  had  become  a  queen  of  France  — 
is  a  stupendous  work  of  its  time.  For  the  most 
part,  the  other  parts  of  the  walls  have  been 
restored  and  built  up  anew  in  modern  times. 

Concarneau   is    the    Ploudenec    of    Blanche 


Finistere  201 


Willis  Howard's  charming  Breton  tale  of 
"  Guenn,"  and  Nevin,  where  the  great  pardon 
dance  was  held,  may  have  been  Pont  Aven  or 
Rosporden. 

There  is  a  wealth  of  charming  colour  in  this 
sad  tale,  and  not  a  little  truth  with  regard  to 
some  of  the  characters,  to  which  Americans, 
before  now,  have  attempted  to  attach  the  names 
of  real  persons  in  the  world  of  art  and  litera- 
ture. 

Opposite  Concarneau  is  Beg-Meil,  which  in 
more  respects  than  one  is  an  anomaly.  It  has 
some  pretence  at  being  a  watering-place,  but 
there  is  no  town  there,  save  such  as  is  built  up 
around  a  few  country-houses  and  hotels,  cater- 
ing only  to  summer  folk;  besides  this,  a  few 
scattered  and  isolated  farms  form  the  sum  total 
of  the  habitations  of  this  little  jutting  point 
of  land  running  out  into  the  billowy  Atlantic. 
For  four-fifths  of  the  year,  the  population  of 
this  salt  meadow  is  composed  only  of  sea-birds, 
which,  like  their  fellows  elsewhere,  form  an 
interesting  colony  of  themselves. 

The  sea-birds  of  Brittany,  like  those  of  other 
rock-bound  shores,  are  ever  interesting  to  the 
traveller.  Like  the  gulls  of  London  Bridge, 
those  near  the  great  bay  of  Concarneau  are 
wonderfully  tame  and  singularly  ravenous,  and 


202  Rambles  in  Brittany 

apparently  eat  all  day.  That  is,  when  they  are 
not  sleeping  or  billing  and  cooing,  as  is  the 
sea-birds'  way,  for  in  this  they  would  seem 
to  rival  the  turtle-dove.  When  they  are  not 
courting  or  sleeping,  they  go  a-fishing,  and  the 
seaweed-strewn  rocks  about  Concarneau  are 
their  happy  hunting-grounds.  They  will  eat, 
say  the  fisherfolk  of  the  sardine  fleet,  ^ve 
pounds  or  more  of  fish  in  a  day,  which  is  con- 
siderably more  than  the  weight  of  an  individual 
bird. 

From  Concarneau  one  must  perforce  follow 
back  along  the  coast-line  to  Pont  Aven,  for  a 
trip  to  Brittany  without  having  known  the  de- 
lights of  this  colony  of  artist-folk,  in  which 
Americans  predominate,  would  be  like  the  trag- 
edy without  Hamlet,  or  the  circus  without  the 
elephant  or  the  pink  lemonade. 

"  Pont  Aven,  the  Barbison  of  Bretagne! 
chosen  home  of  the  painters  of  all  nations  and 
all  schools,  with  Americans  predominating." 
This  is  a  faithful  translation  of  the  remark 
of  an  appreciative  travelling  salesman,  one 
"  who  loved  art,"  if  the  description  be  credi- 
ble. You  will  hear  tales  at  Pont  Aven  of  the 
time  when  artists  found  their  accommodation 
at  a  roadside  inn  outside  the  town  —  now  ap- 
parently vanished  — for   fifty-five   francs   per 


Pont  A 


veil 


Finistere  203 


month,  and  paid  a  sou  for  a  litre  of  milk,  and 
four  sous  for  a  litre  of  cider. 

These  days  have  gone,  and  at  Pont  Aven,  as 
elsewhere  throughout  the  world,  the  prices  of 
all  things  are  apparently  rising.  Eeally,  Pont 
Aven  and  its  environs  are  delightful ;  its  little 
river  is  busy  and  chattering  with  many  mill- 
wheels,  and  the  Lovers'  Wood  —  as  many  know 
■ —  is  well  named. 

Because  of  its  many  riverside  mill-wheels, 
Pont  Aven  has  been  named  Millers'  Town  by 
the  natives,  and  also  "  The  famous  town  with 
fourteen  mills  and  fifteen  houses." 

Unquestionably,  the  fame  of  Pont  Aven  has 
been  made,  or,  at  least,  furthered,  by  Mile. 
Julia,  the  most  capable  landlady  of  the  Trav- 
ellers' Hotel.  The  modest  little  country-house 
which  formed  the  original  hotel  has  now  a  more 
magnificent  neighbour,  built  up  with  a  steel 
frame,  —  like  a  Chicago  skyscraper,  —  and  re- 
splendent with  modern  furniture,  with  chairs 
and  sofas  of  the  saddle-bag  variety,  electric 
lights,  electric  bells  which  actually  do  ring, 
ice-water,  afternoon  tea,  Scotch  whiskey,  and 
all  the  super-refinements  of  a  twentieth-century 
civilization. 

It  is  all  very  comfortable,  —  too  comfortable 
the  artists  will  tell  you,  —  but  the  eagle  eye 


204 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


and  strong  will  of  Mile.  Julia  still  hover  over 
all,  and  nothing  of  deterioration  is  to  be  noted 
in  the  fare,  which  is  excellent,  and  served  in 
the  charmingly  quaint  and  beautifully  deco- 
rated dining-hall  of  the  little  old  inn,  the  pre- 
cursor of  the  more  splendid  addition. 


HOSPOHDEN 


ENVIRONS     or 

PONT  AVE.Nl 


All  this  is  as  it  should  be,  of  course,  but  the 
price  has  of  late  gone  up,  though  it  is  still 
thought  exceedingly  modest  by  guests  who  have 
spent  most  of  their  time  in  big  city  or  seaside 
hotels. 

Painters  are  perhaps  fewer  here  to-day  than 
some  years  ago,  and  there  are  more  of  the  ques- 
tionable pleasures  of  society,  such  as  bridge 
and  ping-pong,  which  is  a  pity. 


Finistere  205 


Another  appendage  to  the  Hotel  Julia  is 
found  at  the  St.  Nicolas  Beach  on  the  coast. 
St.  Nicolas  is  hardly  more  than  a  bathing- 
place,  but  it  is  delightfully  empty,  and  alto- 
gether Pont  Aven,  with  its  environs,  is  a  charm- 
ing centre  from  which  to  make  a  week's,  a 
month's,  or  a  summer's  excursion. 

Of  the  young  girls  of  Pont  Aven,  Anatole 
France  has  uttered  many  truthful  phrases. 
Very  gracious  they  are  indeed  with  their  great 
white  quilled  collars,  their  windmill  coifs,  and 
their  black  skirts  plaited  like  an  accordion. 

Here  at  Pont  Aven  —  as  elsewhere  —  fash- 
ion reigns,  and  the  costume  as  it  is  known  to- 
day is  quite  different  from  that  of  fifty  years 
ago,  which  was  not  so  picturesque,  one  would 
say,  judging  from  old  prints. 

The  metropolis  of  these  parts  and  the  ecclesi- 
astical capital,  for  it  is  a  cathedral  city,  is 
Quimper,  twenty  odd  kilometres  west  of  Con- 
carneau. 

Quimper  is  a  real  city,  though  it  owns  to  a 
trifle  less  than  twenty  thousand  inhabitants, 
and  was  the  ancient  capital  of  the  county  of 
Cornouaille.  From  all  points  the  marvellously 
beautiful  spires  of  its  Cathedral  of  St.  Coren- 
tin  dominate  the  place.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
characteristicallv  Breton  towns  in  the  manners 


206  Rambles  in  Brittany 

and  customs  of  the  people,  the  general  aspect 
of  its  wharfs  and  streets,  its  shops  and  its 
markets. 

The  first  establishment  of  a  settlement  here 
was  in  Roman  times,  when,  in  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury, it  was  known  as  the  Civitas  Aquilonia. 
After  the  expulsion  of  the  Romans  from  the 
land,  it  became  the  capital  and  the  home  of 
the  kings  or  hereditary  Counts  of  Cornouaille, 
one  of  whom,  Grollon,  has  left  a  legend  of  great 
vitality,  telling  of  his  emigration  here  from 
Britain  across  the  seas,  and  the  founding  of 
the  first  bishopric. 

The  cathedral,  dedicated  to  St.  Corentin,  was 
built  between  1239  and  1515,  and  shows  the 
marks  of  the  best  workmanship  of  its  time. 
Its  fine  spires  rival  those  of  St.  Pol  de  Leon 
and  Treguier  in  the  north.  The  ground-plan 
of  this  fine  church  is  not  truly  orientated,  a 
detail  which  is  supposed  to  indicate  the  inclin- 
ing of  the  head  of  Christ  on  the  cross.  It  is 
not  unique,  but  the  arrangement  is  so  rarely 
found  as  to  warrant  remark. 

The  town  hall  encloses  a  library  of  some 
thirty-four  thousand  volumes,  among  them  a 
copy  of  the  first  dictionary  in  the  Breton 
tongue,  published  at  Treguier  in  1499. 

The  museum  contains  some  interesting  ar- 


Finistere 


207 


chaeological  treasures  and  some  good  modern 
paintings,  including  examples  of  the  work  of 
Yan  d' Argent,  Joubert  Lansyer,  Dagnan,  and 


BR.ODe.HIE.  De  2.VIMPE.K         ^S'^iV 


i 


OJ 


CROi>  BKE-TONNt 


From  the  Museum  at  Quimper 


C«-.Of_X  De.  CHAPEXET 


c/JV 


CHANDE.LIE.R.-  FER.  FOFUiE. 


Abram  Duvau,  mostly  depicting  Breton  sub- 
jects. It  also  has  an  admirable  collection  of 
old  Breton  costumes,  etc. 

The  Rue  Kereon  is  the  chief  street  of  the 


208  Rambles  in  Brittany 

town,  and,  like  the  Kalverstraat  of  Amsterdam, 
is  one  of  those  narrow  thoroughfares  so  over- 
flowing with  life  that  to  observe  and  study  the 
passing  throng  is  to  master  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  people. 

There  are  many  quaint  old  houses  scattered 
here  and  there,  and  like  those  old  lean-to  and 
tumble-down  structures  of  Kouen  and  Lisieux, 
they  continually  reappear  on  the  canvases 
shown  in  Paris  each  year  at  the  two  great  ex- 
hibitions. 

The  Allees  Locmaria  form  a  series  of  mag- 
nificently shaded  promenades;  this  is  fre- 
quently a  feature  of  French  towns  above  a 
population  of  ten  thousand,  and  a  feature  which 
might  be  imitated  in  America  and  England 
with  considerable  accruing  advantage. 

South  from  Quimper  lie  Pont  PAbbe  and 
Penmarc'h,  as  characteristically  Breton  as  any- 
thing to  be  seen  in  the  whole  province;  the 
former  has  something  over  six  thousand  inhab- 
itants, and  the  latter  over  four,  and  each  has 
its  own  distinct  characteristics. 

Pont  PAbbe  is  a  town  of  embroiderers. 
Everywhere  one  finds  shops  whose  sole  busi- 
ness it  is  to  sell  those  fine  braid  embroideries 
—  yellow  on  a  black  ground  —  which  have 
made  this  part  of  Brittany  famous. 


Finistere  209 


The  costumes  of  Pont  l'Abbe  are  famous 
throughout  all  Brittany.  The  coif  recalls  those 
seen  in  the  pictures  of  the  ancient  Gauls.  It  is 
virtually  a  little  black  velvet  hood,  and  the  coif 
itself  is  a  "  pignon  de  couleur,"  as  the  hostess 
of  the  hotel  described  it,  and  then,  man-fashion, 
the  author  felt  he  was  wallowing  in  a  strange 
subject.  Locally  this  confection,  taken  entire, 
it  is  inferred,  is  known  as  a  bigoiiden,  —  a 
picturesque  but  not  precisely  instructive  word. 

The  men  wear  a  hat  with  three  great  buck- 
les, and  some  of  them  —  though  their  numbers 
are  few  —  may  yet  be  seen  in  the  culotte  bouf- 
fante,  that  peculiarly  Breton  species  of 
breeches  known  in  their  own  tongue  as 
"  bragoii-braz." 

With  such  an  introduction,  one  might  expect 
almost  any  fantastic  costume  to  step  out  from 
a  doorway,  but,  to  realize  the  quaintness  of 
it  all  to  the  full,  one  should  see  the  inhabitants 
at  the  Fetes  de  la  Treminou,  held  on  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  March,  Whit-Monday,  the  third  Sunday 
in  July,  and  the  fourth  Sunday  in  September. 

The  dances  of  Pont  l'Abbe  are  famous  and 
are  indescribable  by  any  one  but  a  dancing- 
master.  Inasmuch  as  they  invariably  take 
place  in  the  open  air,  they  may  be  accepted 
as  the  free  and  spontaneous  expression  of  an 


210  Rambles  in  Brittany 

emotion,  which  stuffy  ballroom  cotillons  most 
decidedly  are  not. 

The  church  of  Pont  l'Abbe  dates  from  a 
Carmelite  foundation  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, and  is  a  fine  work  of  its  era,  though  sur- 
mounted by  a  curious  and  modern  bell-tower  in 
wood.  Within  the  church  are  the  tombs  of 
many  of  the  ancient  barons  of  Pont  l'Abbe. 
The  magnificent  rose  window  is  of  modern 
glass,  but  so  admirable  that  one  stands  before 
it  with  a  certain  respectful  awe,  as  before  that 
old  thirteenth-century  glass  in  Chartres  cathe- 
dral. The  ancient  cloisters  are  still  preserved 
and  surround  a  fine  garden. 

Pont  l'Abbe  is  only  five  kilometres  from  the 
coast,  and  Loctudy,  also  the  possessor  of  a  fine 
mediaeval  church,  and  Penmarc'h  form  a  trio 
of  Breton  coast  towns  quite  as  worthy  of  one's 
attention  as  many  better  known  resorts. 

Penmarc'h  —  which  for  some  inexplicable 
reason  is  pronounced  Penmar  —  is  situated  in 
the  midst  of  a  great  bare  peninsula  terminat- 
ing in  the  Pointe  de  Penmarc'h.  Instead  of 
a  high  cliff  sheared  off  at  the  water's  edge,  as 
one  so  frequently  sees  on  the  north  coast,  the 
point  sinks  gently  into  the  blue  waters  of  the 
Atlantic  until  it  is  swallowed  up,  with  never 
so  much  as  a  line  of  breakers  to  indicate  its 


Finistere  211 


presence  from  seaward.  Penmarc'h  in  Breton 
signifies  the  "  head  of  a  horse,"  and  Benzec 
Capcaval,  a  village  not  far  distant,  means  the 
same.  An  ingenious  person  will  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  following  the  etymology  of  the  latter 
word,  but  the  former  is  quite  incomprehensible 
except  to  a  Welshman. 

Penmarc'h  was  for  four  centuries  a  city 
which  kept  pace  with  Nantes.  Its  early  riches 
came  from  the  traffic  in  "  lenten  meat,"  which 
is  simply  codfish. 

The  Church  of  St.  Nonna  is  a  late  Gothic 
edifice,  with  a  great  square  tower  which  will 
be  remarked  by  all  who  come  near  it.  Its  in- 
terior has  two  baptismal  fonts,  strangely  dec- 
orated with  stone  carvings  of  fantastic  shapes, 
depicting  the  history  of  Penmarc,h. 

Three  kilometres  away  is  the  town  of  St. 
Guenole,  a  tiny  fishing  port  with  fine  panoramic 
view  of  the  Bay  of  Audierne.  The  chapel 
of  St.  Guenole  occupies  the  base  of  a  great 
tower,  now  ruinous,  but  looking  as  though  in 
a  former  day  it  must  have  belonged  to  some 
pretentious  church. 

"  The  Handle  of  the  Torch  "  is  one  of  the 
local  sights.  It  is  formed  of  a  series  of  great 
rocks  at  some  little  distance  from  the  main- 
land.   That  bearing  the  name  of  "  The  Torch  " 


212  Rambles  in  Brittany- 

is  separated  from  the  mainland  by  the  Monk's 
Leap,  which,  according  to  legend,  was  the  land- 
ing-place of  St.  Viaud,  when  he  migrated  from 
Hibernia  to  Brittany  ages  ago. 

From  Quimper  to  the  Point  of  Kaz  is  one 
long  up  and  down  hill  pull  of  fifty  kilometres, 
until  one  finally  reaches  Point  or  Cape  Sizun, 
known  to  Ptolemy  as  the  promontory  of 
Gabceum.  It  is  the  extreme  westerly  point 
of  the  peninsula  of  Cornouaille,  and,  reckoning 
from  the  meridian  of  Paris,  —  for  the  French 
do  not  use  the  meridian  of  Greenwich,  —  is  just 
on  the  line  of  the  seventh  degree  of  west  longi- 
tude. The  Leon  country  northward  of  Brest 
actually  extends  a  trifle  farther  westward,  at 
Point  St.  Mathieu,  but  most  maps  do  not 
show  it. 

North  of  the  Point  of  Eaz  is  the  great  Bay 
of  Douarnenez,  with  its  sardine  fisheries  rival- 
ling those  of  Concarneau,  and  southward  lies 
the  shallow  bay  of  the  Audierne,  whose  shores, 
in  their  own  way,  are  quite  as  characteristi- 
cally wild  as  those  of  any  part  of  Northwestern 
France. 

At  the  extreme  end  of  the  Point  of  Eaz  are 
two  unpretentious  hotels,  which  will  please 
only  those  of  simple  tastes  and  lovers  of  the 


Finistere  213 


solitary;  both  are  connected  with  more  am- 
bitious establishments  at  Audierne. 

The  Bay  of  the  Dead,  the  Hell  of  PlogafT, 
and  the  rocky  point  itself,  form  the  tourist 
attractions,  but  it  will  be  enough  for  most  lov- 
ers of  solitude  to  bask  in  the  sunlight  amid 
the  gentle  breezes  from  the  Gulf  Stream,  and 
to  leave  rock-climbing  to  those  agile  spirits 
who  affect  that  sort  of  exercise. 

Near  Audierne  is  the  Church  of  St.  Tuglan, 
a  fine  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  century  edifice, 
with  many  a  legend  clinging  to  the  name  of  its 
patron  saint.  It  is  all  very  vague,  but  there  is 
hidden  superstition  in  abundance,  if  one  only 
had  the  patience  to  work  it  out.  All  that  can  be 
learned  is,  that  the  holy  man  was  the  Abbe  of 
Primelin,  near  by,  and  that  his  feast  is  cele- 
brated throughout  all  the  Point  of  Raz.  His 
statue  represents  him  with  a  key  in  the  hand, 
and  there  is  a  great  iron  key  preserved  in  the 
church  said  to  have  once  belonged  to  him.  On 
the  day  of  the  pardon  great  quantities  of  little 
loaves  are  stamped  with  this  key  and,  according 
to  a  popular  belief,  they  will  cure  a  mad  dog 
of  his  madness,  if  he  be  given  a  morsel  to  eat, 
and  possess  many  other  virtues  of  a  similar 
nature.  In  the  sacristy  of  the  church  are  pre- 
served the  teeth  of  St.  Tuglan.    The  inhabitants 


214  Rambles  in  Brittany 

of  Primelin  are  known  as  paotret  ar  alc'houez, 
or  servants  of  the  key. 

Audierne  is  a  busy  litle  Breton  port  of  per- 
haps four  thousand  inhabitants,  and  opposite 
is  the  fishing  village  of  Poulgoazec,  with  sar- 
dine factories  and  all  the  equipment  of  the 
trade.  Up  to  the  sixteenth  century,  Audierne 
was  even  more  flourishing  than  it  is  to-day,  for 
the  codfish,  which  were  its  riches,  had  not  left 
for  other  shores. 

The  vast  Bay  of  Audierne  has  a  wild  and 
deeply  embayed  coast-line,  with  nothing  but  a 
population  of  sea-birds  to  add  to  the  gaiety  of 
the  landscape. 

Northward,  toward  Douarnenez,  is  Pont 
Croix,  built  in  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  Goayen. 

Our  Lady  of  Roscudon  is  an  ancient  collegi- 
ate church  now  turned  into  a  little  seminary. 
The  peasant  folk  round  about  call  it  only  the 
Virgin's  church.  It  is  in  many  respects  a  re- 
markable fifteenth-century  work. 

From  the  Point  of  Raz  in  the  south  to  Cape 
de  la  Chevre  in  the  north  extends  the  great 
gulf  known  as  the  Bay  of  Douarnenez.  Along 
its  shores  are  innumerable  little  fishing  villages, 
which  seem  almost  of  another  world.  Certainly 
they  have  not  much  in  common  with  other  sec- 


Finistere  215 


tions  of  Brittany,  to  say  nothing  of  the  rest  of 
Europe. 

Douarnenez  disputes  with  Concarneau  the 
privilege  of  being  considered  the  centre  of  the 
sardine  industry,  and,  like  it,  has  all  the  pic- 
turesque attributes  of  brown-sailed  boats  and 
of  blue  and  brown  nets  hung  masthead  high 
for  drying,  as  the  craft  lie  at  the  quayside, 
after  having  unloaded  their  catch. 

The  delicate  blues  and  purple-browns  of 
these  nets  are  irresistible  to  the  artist,  but  few 
have  caught  the  real  tone;  indeed,  more  than 
one  painter  of  repute  has  given  it  up  as  a  bad 
job,  saying  that  it  was  impossible  to  transfer 
it  to  canvas. 

The  beauty  of  the  Bay  of  Douarnenez  has  a 
fascination  for  artists  and  holds  one  spell- 
bound under  certain  aspects  of  the  westering 
sun,  when  lights  and  shadows  intermingle  in 
truly  heavenly  fashion. 

During  the  civil  wars  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
turies, Douarnenez  was  taken  by  Jacques  de 
Guengat,  but  was  retaken  by  Fontenelle  in  1595 
and  its  houses  for  the  most  part  demolished, 
and  used  to  build  up  the  fortifications  of  the 
He  Tristan. 

Douarnenez  signifies,  literally,  the  land  of  the 
isle.     The  He  Tristan  once  contained  a  priory 


216  Rambles  in  Brittany 

dedicated  to  St.  Tutarn,  but  now  the  chief 
sights  are  the  lighthouse  and  a  sardine  factory. 
An  ancient  tradition  recounts  that  the  lie  Tris- 
tan received  its  name  from  the  valiant  Tristan 
of  Leonais,  one  of  the  knights  of  the  Round 
Table. 

Except  for  the  view  from  the  gallery  of  the 
great  lighthouse,  the  trip  to  the  island  is  hardly 
worth  the  making.  The  view  from  this  vantage- 
point  is,  however,  remarkable;  indeed,  it  is 
unique,  the  writer  is  inclined  to  think,  in  all 
the  world.  Suffice  to  say  of  it  that  it  is  un- 
worldly, and  yet  gay  with  the  workaday  com- 
ing and  going  of  the  sardine  fleets,  as  such  a 
paradoxical  description  will  permit  one  to  im- 
agine. All  is  peaceful,  and  yet  there  is  a  steady 
inflow  of  industry  that  is  in  no  wise  detrimental 
to  its  unspoiled  tranquillity.  Perhaps  if  an 
artist  lived  by  the  shores  of  the  deep  blue  and 
purple  waters  of  this  bay  for  a  matter  of  two 
score  of  years,  he  might  do  it  justice ;  until  then 
—  never. 

Concarneau  as  a  port  is  more  interesting 
than  Douarnenez,  but  the  bay  of  Concarneau, 
delightful  as  it  is,  has  not  a  tithe  of  the  varia- 
tions that  are  played  upon  the  gently  flowing 
waters  of  the  bay  of  Douarnenez  by  the  setting 
sun. 


Finistere 


217 


The  peninsula  of  Crozon  shelters  the  bay  of 
Douarnenez  on  the  north.  At  one  pronged  ex- 
tremity is  Boscanvel,  jutting  out  into  the  roads 
of  Brest,  and  at  the  other  is  Cape  de  la  Chevre. 


Woman  of  Chateaulin 

Between  the  two  is  a  wonderful  country  of 
rock-strewn  coast-line  and  poppy-covered  in- 
land fields. 

Chateaulin,  situated  on  the  river  Aulne,  a 


218  Rambles  in  Brittany 

little  beyond  the  head  of  the  peninsula,  is  the 
metropolis  of  these  parts.  It  owes  its  name 
to  an  ancient  hermitage  of  St.  Idunet.  Its  pres- 
ent name  grew  from  Nin  or  Castel  Nin,  then 
Castelin,  and  finally  Chateaulin.  The  hermit- 
age, in  time,  was  succeeded  by  the  priory  of 
Locquidunet,  and  that  in  its  turn  became  the 
parish  church  of  the  present  town. 

Hoel,  Count  of  Cornouaille,  who  became 
Duke  of  Brittany,  incorporated  the  town  with 
the  ducal  domain,  from  which  time  on  its  his- 
tory was  one  of  partisan  strife. 

The  Revolution  elevated  it  to  the  rank  of  a 
market-town,  and  changed  its  name  to  "  Cite 
sur  Aulne,"  in  an  attempt  to  suppress  the  sup- 
posedly aristocratic  prefix  of  Chateau.  Ulti- 
mately, it  reverted  to  its  former  name. 

Near  by  are  the  Black  Mountains,  of  which 
Mene  Horn  is  the  chief  eminence,  its  summit 
rising  to  a  height  of  330  metres,  with  other 
peaks  at  the  height  of  299,  272,  and  248  metres. 
The  heights  are  not  so  very  considerable,  but 
their  proximity  to  the  sea  exaggerates  them, 
and  travellers  by  road  —  bicycle  riders  and 
travellers  in  motor-cars  —  will  think  the  proc- 
ess of  crossing  the  Black  Mountains,  on  the 
way  from  North  to  South  Finistere,  as  for- 
midable as  the  task  of  Hannibal. 


Finistere  219 


Crozon  is  a  much  larger  place  than  Chateau- 
lin,  isolated  though  it  is  from  all  direct  com- 
munication with  other  parts.  It  is  situated 
some  250  feet  above  the  sea,  on  what  the  French 
call  a  wild  table-land,  and  dominates  the  Bay 
of  Douarnenez  from  the  north.  All  around 
Crozon  are  innumerable  grottoes  and  rock-cut 
caves  and  excavations,  which  always  have  a 
certain  fascination  for  some  folk,  but  will 
hardly  interest  the  devotee  to  the  beauties  of 
landscape. 

Camaret,  at  the  very  tip  of  the  peninsula, 
is  another  safe  port  for  artists.  Here  are  fish- 
ing-boats and  all  the  accessories,  like  those  seen 
at  Douarnenez  and  Concameau,  and  with  a 
landscape  background  and  a  foreground  of 
blue  water  that  many  whose  names  are  great 
in  the  world  of  art  have  painted  and  many 
more  will  paint.  Cottets's  "  Fishing-boats  at 
Camaret,"  in  the  Luxembourg  Gallery,  is  per- 
haps the  best  known  of  these  pictures,  but  the 
composition  is  always  the  same.  The  back- 
ground never  changes,  —  the  tiny  chapel  with 
its  dwindling  spire,  the  beacon,  and  the  tall, 
gaunt  stone  house  on  the  little  mole  running 
seaward  and  protecting  the  port,  group  them- 
selves willingly  enough  into  the  most  charming 
view  in  all  the  town. 


220  Rambles  in  Brittany 

The  fishing-boats  of  the  foreground  change 
their  positions,  but  kaleidoscopically  only,  and 
one  may  return  year  after  year  and  see  prac- 
tically the  same  groupings,  with  only  trifling 
differences. 

One  makes  his  way  from  Camaret  to  the 
great  military  port  and  trading  town  of  Brest 
—  if  one  need  to  go  there  at  all,  which  is  doubt- 
ful —  either  by  boat  across  the  Goulet  and  the 
roads  of  Brest,  some  sixteen  kilometres  by  a 
puffy  little  excursion-boat,  which,  on  a  Sunday 
or  a  feast-day,  is  anything  but  comfortable, 
or  by  road  by  way  of  Faou,  which  is  a  great 
fruit  and  vegetable  market  for  Brest,  and  not 
much  more. 

There  is  a  considerable  display  of  costume 
here  on  market-days,  —  which  appear  to  be 
every  day,  —  and  the  town  is  picturesque 
enough  of  itself,  though,  strange  to  say,  it 
smacks  of  suburbia,  —  a  place  where  one  gets 
his  news  second-hand  from  some  neighbouring 
citye 


S 


CHAPTER   VII. 


FINISTERE NORTH 


The  northernmost  part  of  the  peninsula  of 
Finistere  has  not  the  abounding  or  varied  in- 
terests of  the  south.  Its  monuments  of  other 
days  are  not  so  many  or  so  remarkable,  and 
the  sterner  conditions  of  life  seem  to  have  had 
a  sobering  effect  upon  manners  and  customs. 

Brest  and  its  wonderfully  ample  harbour  has 
by  no  means  the  attractions  of  Vannes  or  of 
Nantes  for  the  bird  of  passage,  though  its  com- 
mercial and  strategic  value  is  great,  and  its 
history  vivid  and  eventful.  In  spite  of  all  this, 
there  is  little  that  is  interesting  to-day  in  its 
straight  streets  and  rectangular  blocks. 

This  fortified  and  exceedingly  animated  town 
owns  to  eighty  odd  thousand  inhabitants,  and 
is  so  pervaded  by  military  and  naval  organi- 
zation that  there  is  very  little  local  colour,  very 
little  atmosphere  of  the  past  hanging  about  it 
to-day.  To  find  this,  one  has  to  go  back  to 
Faou,  to  Plougastel  or  Landerneau  or  Landi- 

221 


222  Rambles  in  Brittany 

visiau,  all  within  a  radius  of  twenty  kilometres 
or  so. 

The  great  bay  of  Brest  is  a  swarming  water- 
way, upon  which  the  little  excursion  steamers, 
tugboats,  great  cruisers  and  battle-ships,  tor- 
pedo-boats and  torpedo-boat  destroyers,  and 
yet  other  craft  built  to  catch  torpedo-boat  des- 
troyers, are  all  apparently  entangled  inexpli- 
cably each  in  the  wakes  of  all  the  others. 

The  entrance  to  this  harbour  is  known  as  the 
Goulet,  and  is  lighted  by  five  lighthouses,  which 
at  night  send  out  their  twinkling  rays  of  red, 
green,  and  white  in  most  kaleidoscopic  fashion, 
—  all  Greek  to  a  landsman,  but  as  clear  as  day 
to  the  Breton  pilots  who  bring  the  great  ships 
in  and  out  of  this  narrow  waterway.  In  the 
ninth  century,  Brest  was  already  in  existence, 
in  spite  of  its  modern  aspect  to-day,  and  be- 
longed to  the  Counts  of  Leon.  Its  future  was 
as  varied  as  the  history  of  Brittany. 

It  opened  its  ports  to  the  army  of  Charles 
VIII.  in  1489,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  Duchess 
Anne  to  prevent  such  a  proceeding.  How  far 
she  succumbed  will  be  recalled  when  one  real- 
izes that  two  years  later  her  marriage  with 
this  prince  was  the  first  step  which  united  the 
province  of  Brittany  for  ever  with  France. 
Brest  from  this  time  took  on  a  new  importance, 


Finistere  223 


until  Cardinal  Richelieu  came  to  designate  it 
as  one  of  the  principal  arsenals  of  France,  and 
then,  in  1631,  came  the  creation  of  the  great 
dockyards. 

Of  architectural  monuments,  Brest  still  has 
the  Church  of  St.  Louis  (1688-1778)  and  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  century  castle.  As  an 
ecclesiastical  monument,  the  church  is  quite 
unworthy  of  attention,  though  it  has  some  in- 
teresting tombs  and  monuments. 

The  castle  is  an  admirable  example  of  medi- 
aeval fortification,  with  some  remarkable  acces- 
sory details  in  its  construction.  The  isolated 
donjon  tower  was  in  other  days  a  sort  of  in- 
dependent citadel,  and  formed  a  last  refuge 
for  the  besieged  occupants  of  the  castle,  should 
its  outer  walls  give  way  to  the  invaders.  The 
Tower  of  Azenor  and  the  Tower  of  Anne  of 
Brittany,  so  named  for  the  respective  prin- 
cesses, are  admirably  preserved  parts. 

The  local  museum  and  library  have  fine  col- 
lections. There  are  fifty-six  thousand  volumes 
in  the  library,  and  the  collection  of  paintings 
contains  many  Breton  subjects  by  modern  mas- 
ters. 

The  dockyard  —  navy-yard  in  the  language 
of  the  United  States,  port  militaire  in  French 
—  is  closed  to  the  general  public,  but  a  marvel- 


224  Rambles  in  Brittany 

lous  detailed  bird's-eye  view  of  the  city,  the 
docks,  and  the  roads  is  obtained  from  the  plat- 
form of  the  Pont  Tournant. 

Nineteen  kilometres  from  Brest  is  Lander- 
neau, and  the  junction  of  the  railway  lines  to 
Kerlouan  und  Folgoet  in  the  north,  and  to 
Quimper  and  Concarneau  in  the  south.  Lan- 
derneau  from  the  twelfth  to  sixteenth  centuries 
had  a  distinct  feudal  administration. 

The  folk  of  Landerneau  have  opinions  of 
their  own,  as  witness  the  remark,  made  at  Ver- 
sailles under  the  regency  by  a  Breton  noble 
hailing  from  this  place:  "  The  Landerneau 
moon  is  larger  than  that  at  Versailles." 

Again  there  is  a  Breton  proverb  which  runs 
thus :  * '  There  will  always  be  something  to  talk 
about  in  Landerneau."  Mostly  this  is  used 
when  a  widow  marries  again,  which  may  be 
taken  to  mean  much  or  little,  as  one  chooses. 

Landerneau  has  a  fine  little  tidal  harbour, 
and  its  streets  and  wharfs  are  busy  with  the 
hum  of  coastwise  traffic  and  river  life,  and, 
with  its  Church  of  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury 
and  its  "  best  and  cleanest  inn  in  the  bishop- 
ric "  (Hotel  de  l'Univers),  as  a  traveller  of 
a  century  or  more  ago  once  wrote,  it  has  no  lack 
of  interest  for  travellers. 

One  is  not  likelv  to  be  met  with  a  statement 


Finistere  225 


by  his  host,  as  was  the  century-old  traveller, 
that  a  respectable  man  begs  to  know  if  he  may 
eat  at  the  same  table,  and  accordingly  one  will 
not  have  to  reply,  "  With  all  my  heart,' '  for 
most  likely  there  will  be  twenty  at  the  common 
table,  and  all  will  sit  down  to  a  meal  of  all  the 
good  things  of  life,  "  sea  food  "  and  golden 
cider  and  apple  sweetmeats  predominating. 

It  is  all  excellent,  however,  and  the  abun- 
dance of  deliciously  cooked  fish  will  make  one 
think  it  were  no  hardship  to  make  a  lenten 
sojourn  here.  A  great  church  and  a  good  hotel 
are  indeed  all-sufficient  attractions  for  a  mar- 
ket-town of  perhaps  eight  thousand  souls. 

The  town  borders  upon  a  picturesque  little 
river,  the  Elorn,  which  finally  flows  into  the 
harbour  of  Brest.  From  the  hfth  century  until 
the  sixteenth,  it  was  far  and  away  a  more  im- 
portant place  than  its  now  more  opulent  neigh- 
bour at  the  river's  mouth.  Then  it  was  the 
chief  town  of  Leon,  the  domain  of  the  De  Ro- 
hans2  one  of  the  ancient  Breton  baronies. 

At  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  principal  streets 
—  Rue  Plouedern  —  are  two  curious  ancient 
pieces  of  sculpture,  —  a  lion  and  a  man  armed 
with  a  sword,  bearing  the  inscription  "  Tire 
Tve."  They  came  from  an  old  house  which 
existed  here  in  the  sixteen  hundreds,  and  are 


226  Rambles  in  Brittany 

fitting  examples  of  that  curious  mediaeval  sym- 
bolism which  so  often  crops  out  in  domestic 
and  religious  architecure.  Although  the  chief 
of  Landerneau's  ecclesiastical  monuments  is 
the  sixteenth-century  edifice  dedicated  to  St. 
Thomas  of  Canterbury,  the  Church  of  St.  Hou- 
ardon  is  a  contemporary  work  of  some  preten- 
sion; its  base  Renaissance  portico  was  added 
at  a  later  time.  The  arms  and  emblems  of  the 
De  Rohans  are  conspicuous  in  both  edifices. 

July  fifteenth  is  the  great  fete-day  here- 
about, when  the  horse-races,  boat-races,  and 
illuminations  attract  the  peasantry  from  the 
inland  country  and  the  workmen  from  the  dock- 
yards at  Brest. 

Five  kilometres  away  is  the  Chapel  of  St. 
Eloi  of  the  sixteenth  century.  This  sainted 
personage  is  represented  throughout  Finistere 
with  the  attributes  of  a  bishop  and  of  a  horse- 
shoer.  Horses  are  placed  under  his  protection, 
and  the  Pardon  of  St.  Eloi  is  celebrated  in 
various  parts  with  much  merrymaking,  and 
always  with  much  firing  of  guns.  A  motor-car 
is  not  beloved  here,  and  if  one  incidentally  or 
accidentally  come  upon  a  festival  of  St.  Eloi, 
he  had  best  forthwith  make  tracks  in  retreat. 
The  actual  religious  ceremony  consists  of  a 
mounted  cavalier  riding  up  to  the  chapel  door 


Finistere  227 


and  making  a  sort  of  salute  or  obeisance  three 
times  from  the  saddle  without  putting  foot  to 
the  ground,  after  which  he  deposits  on  the  altar 
a  packet  of  horse-hair,  or  even  the  tail  of  a 
horse. 

In  the  Forest  of  Landerneau,  six  kilometres 
southwest,  is  the  Chateau  of  "  La  Joyeuse 
Garde,"  celebrated  in  the  romance  of  the  chiv- 
alry of  King  Arthur's  time,  wherein  King  Ar 
thur,  Lancelot  of  the  Lake,  and  Tristan  of 
Lyonnesse  played  so  great  a  part. 

Landivisiau,  on  the  main  railway  line  from 
Paris  to  Brest,  has  a  remarkable  church  under 
the  protection  of  St.  Turiafr*,  —  which  in  Bre- 
ton is  Tivisian,  —  who  was  Archbishop  of  Dol 
in  the  eighth  century. 

This  fine  church  is  a  sixteenth-century  work, 
and  exhibits  all  the  notes  of  the  early  period 
of  the  Renaissance,  but,  in  spite  of  this,  the 
richness  of  its  portal,  its  bell-tower,  its  fine 
spire,  and  its  nave  and  choir  rebuilt  in  the  best 
of  late  Gothic,  make  it  a  building  to  be  re- 
marked among  the  churches  of  Brittany,  which, 
as  a  rule,  have  not  the  ornateness  and  luxuri- 
ance of  ornament  of  those  of  Normandy  and 
other  parts  of  France. 

The  cemetery  of  Landivisiau  has  a  remark- 
able   ossuary,    supported    by    most    fantastic 


228  Rambles  in  Brittany 

shapes,  among  them  a  skeleton  armed  with 
two  arrows,  a  woman  in  an  unmistakably  Span- 
ish costume,  and  a  most  diabolical  Satan. 

The  fair-day  at  Landivisiau  is  the  great  cele- 
bration of  these  parts.  It  is  not  so  ambitious 
as  many  of  those  held  elsewhere,  but  it  will 
give  the  visitor  the  opportunity  of  making  an 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  Bas  Bretons  in 
a  manner  not  possible  in  the  larger  towns. 

The  dress  of  the  people  is  peculiar,  with  the 
great  baggy  trousers  of  the  men,  the  coifs  of 
the  women,  and  the  general  display  and  love 
of  the  finery  of  bright  colours  which  seem  in- 
herent with  a  people  living  upon  the  seacoast. 

In  general,  their  features  are  heavy  and  their 
expression  more  or  less  sullen,  although  this 
does  not  often  indicate  bad  temper.  Unques- 
tionably their  carriage  indicates  hard  labour, 
and  the  furrows  and  ridges  of  their  counte- 
nances come  only  from  continuous  contact  with 
the  open  air.  Still,  their  bodies  are  stout  and 
broad,  and  men  and  women  alike  have  none  of 
the  softness  and  languor  of  the  southern  prov- 
inces, albeit  the  Armorican  climate  is  mild 
throughout  the  year. 

Opposite  Brest,  just  across  the  estuary  of 
the  Elorn,  is  Plougastel,  famous  for  its  melons 


Calvary,  Plougastel 


Finistere  229 


and  its  green  peas,  and,  above  all,  for  its  pic- 
turesque calvary. 

The  whole  peninsula  of  Plougastel-Daoulas 
is  a  vast  market-garden  for  Brest,  and,  for  that 
matter,  for  the  hotels  at  Paris.  The  verdure 
and  vegetable  growth  is  in  striking  contrast 
to  the  barren  fringe  of  rocky  coast-line,  and 
therein  lies  one  of  the  charms  of  the  whole 
aspect  of  nature  as  it  is  seen  here. 

Nothing  in  Brittany  is  more  picturesque  than 
the  little  villages  of  Kererault,  Roc'hquerezen, 
Roc'huivlen,  and  Roc'hquillion.  This  is  a  com- 
monplace perhaps  to  those  who  know  the  region 
well,  but  it  will  not  be  to  strangers,  and  so  it 
is  reiterated  here. 

The  Chapel  St.  John  of  Plougastel  is  perhaps 
two  kilometres  away.  It  is  here,  on  the  twenty- 
fourth  of  June  of  each  year,  that  its  pardon 
brings  so  great  a  throng  of  visitors  that  they 
really  have  to  bring  their  eatables  with  them 
or  starve,  thus  making  a  fast-day  of  a  feast. 

In  the  cemetery  is  that  great  calvary  which 
has  so  often  been  pictured,  the  most  consid- 
erable work  of  its  kind  in  existence. 

It  was  erected  1602  -  04,  in  memory  of  a 
plague  which  fell  upon  the  land  in  1598. 

In  recent  times  it  has  been  restored.  On  the 
front  is  an  altar  ornamented  with  statues  of 


230  Rambles  in  Brittany 

St.  Sebastien,  St.  Pierre,  and  St.  Rocli.  The 
frieze  shows  a  multitude  of  bas-reliefs,  illus- 
trating the  life  of  Jesus,  and  the  risers  of  the 
steps  are  a  series  of  quaintly  carved  little  peo- 
ple, over  two  hundred  in  number.  On  the 
plinth  is  a  risen  Christ  and  a  tablet  bearing 
the  date  of  erection  of  the  work.  It  is  a  mar- 
vellous expression  of  religious  devotion,  and 
far  surpasses  other  wayside  shrines  in  Brit- 
tany, and  indeed  in  all  the  world. 

The  inhabitants  of  Plougastel  have  preserved 
their  ancient  costumes  with  little  or  no  modern 
interpolation.  Particularly  is  this  to  be  noted 
among  the  young  girls,  on  a  Sunday,  as  they 
come  from  the  mass,  and  also  on  the  fifteenth 
of  August,  when  there  is  a  great  religious  pro- 
cession. The  "  Pardon  of  Plougastel  "  is 
known  also  as  the  "  Birds'  Pardon,"  for  a 
great  bird  fair  is  opened  St.  John's  Day. 

On  the  same  side  of  the  Goulet  of  Brest,  that 
narrow  inlet  which  is  the  entrance  from  the  sea 
to  the  bay,  is  Le  Conquet.  It  sits  at  the  very 
tip  of  Finistere,  just  above  the  Pte.  St.  Mathieu, 
and  its  great  lighthouse,  which,  with  a  thirty- 
second  eclipse,  sends  its  rays  some  twenty  miles 
out  to  sea. 

Le  Conquet  has  but  fifteen  hundred  inhab- 
itants, and  its  isolated  population  apparently 


Finistere  231 


has  not  many  friends,  else  the  place  would 
be  filled  to  overflowing  in  the  summer  months, 
which  it  is  not.  Its  two  hotels,  St.  Barbara 
and  Hotel  de  Bretagne,  are  all  that  could  be 
expected,  and  more,  hence  the  paucity  of  visit- 
ors to  this  charming  bit  of  "  land's  end  "  is 
the  more  remarkable. 

Anciently  Le  Conquet  was  a  strong  fortified 
place,  and  it  underwent  a  great  number  of 
sieges,  and  was  burned  by  the  English  in  1558. 
Eight  houses  alone  of  the  present  habitations 
of  the  town  survived  the  flames. 

The  port  is  frequented  only  by  the  fishing- 
smacks,  which  land  vast  quantities  of  lobsters 
and  shrimps. 

There  is  also  an  ancient  pottery  here,  the 
most  ancient  in  all  Finistere.  Its  pots  and  pans 
are  found  in  all  the  homesteads  hereabouts, 
and  such  tourists  from  all  parts  as  actually  do 
come  here  carry  numberless  specimens  away 
with  them. 

The  modern  church,  after  the  ogival  manner, 
is  far  more  satisfactory  than  most  modern 
ecclesiastical  monuments.  There  is  a  fifteenth- 
century  portal,  however,  and  some  contem- 
porary statues,  which  save  it  from  being  wholly 
a  modern  work. 

The   coast-line    round    about    is    the    rough, 


232  Rambles  in  Brittany 

abrupt  ending  of  the  Leon  plateau,  jagged  and 
deeply  serrated  like  the  jaws  of  a  shark,  as  the 
native  tells  one  with  respect  to  about  all  of  the 
Breton  coast-line.  Fine  beaches  do  exist  here 
and  there,  but  in  the  main  it  is  a  stern  and  rock- 
bound  shore  that  buffets  the  Atlantic's  waves 
in  Finistere. 

Three  times  a  week  one  can  make  the  journey 
by  steamboat  to  Ouessant,  which  English  sailor- 
folk —  those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  great 
liners  —  know  as  Ushant.  The  lie  Molene  and 
the  lie  Ouessant  are  the  principal  members  of 
the  group,  and  are  even  more  stern  and  rock- 
bound  than  the  mainland. 

"  Very  little  comfort  on  the  boat,"  you  will 
be  told  at  the  port-office,  where  you  make  in- 
quiry as  to  the  hour  of  departure.  Any  but 
good  sailors  and  true  vagabond  travellers  had 
best  leave  the  journey  out  of  their  itinerary, 
although  it  has  unique  interest. 

There  are  numerous  isles  and  islets  to  pass 
on  the  way,  and  the  Chaussee  des  Pierres  Noires 
is  a  roughly  strewn  ledge  which  breathes  dan- 
ger in  the  very  spray  continually  flying  over  it. 
Molene  is  a  kilometre  long  and  rather  more 
than  half  as  wide.  If  ever  the  population  of 
a  sea-girt  isle  had  to  take  in  one  another's 
washing  in  order  to  make  a  living,  this  is  the 


Finistere  23; 


place,  for  nearly  six  hundred  men,  women,  and 
children  make  their  habitation  upon  the  isle. 

Needless  to  say  there  are  some  things  of  the 
twentieth-century  civilization  of  which  they 
know  not,  such  as  automobiles,  tram-cars,  or 
locomotives.  There  is  not  even  a  donkey  en- 
gine on  the  island,  and  there  are  no  bicycles 
or  perambulators,  hence  there  is  something  for 
which  to  be  thankful.  Considerable  quantities 
of  vegetables  are  exported,  the  population  liv- 
ing apparently  on  fish,  and  the  "  farms  "  are 
divided  into  plots  so  small  as  to  be  almost  in- 
finitesimal. 

The  island  is  sadly  remembered  for  the  part 
it  played  in  the  wreck  of  the  great  South  Af- 
rican liner,  the  Drummond  Castle,  in  recent 
years.  The  inhabitants  of  the  isle,  poor  in  this 
world's  goods  though  they  were,  did  much  to 
succour  the  survivors,  an  act  which  is  writ  large 
in  the  history  of  life-saving. 

The  isle  of  Ouessant  itself  has  nearly  three 
thousand  population,  and  boasts  a  market  and 
a  hotel,  besides  numerous  hamlets  or  suburbs. 
The  isle  is  eight  kilometres  long,  and  perhaps 
three  and  a  half  wide,  and  is  known  to  the  gov- 
ernment authorities  both  as  a  canton  and  as 
a  commune. 

Plinv  knew  of  this  rock-bound  isle,  the  fore- 


234  Rambles  in  Brittany- 

most  outpost  of  France,  and  called  it  Uxantos, 
though  it  was  known  to  the  ancient  Bretons  as 
Enez  Heussa.  Practically,  the  island  is  a  table- 
land with  an  abundance  of  pure  water,  and  the 
soil  very  productive  so  far  as  new  potatoes  and 
an  early  crop  of  barley  go.  The  cultivation  is 
mostly  in  the  hands  of  the  women,  the  men 
being  nearly  all  engaged  in  the  fisheries,  or  as 
sailors.  Ouessant  is  a  little  land  of  windmills, 
though  in  no  way  does  it  resemble  Holland. 
For  the  most  part,  they  are  sturdy  stone  build- 
ings, and  work  but  lazily,  many  of  them  being 
dismantled,  as  if  there  were  not  enough  for 
them  to  do.  Some  years  ago  a  fort  was  erected 
here,  and  a  garrison  of  colonial  troops  billeted 
upon  the  island.  It  is  a  sad  job  at  best  to  be 
a  soldier  in  a  colonial  outpost  such  as  this,  and 
whether  the  observation  is  just  or  not,  it  is 
made,  nevertheless,  that  the  appearance  of  the 
garrison  of  Ouessant  is  as  though  it  were  made 
up,  literally,  of  the  scum  of  the  earth. 

As  for  history,  the  lie  d 'Ouessant  is  by  no 
means  entirely  lacking.  It  was  evangelized  in 
the  sixth  century  by  St.  Pol  Aurelian,  who  built 
a  chapel  here  at  a  spot  known  as  Portz  Pol. 

In  1388,  the  English  ravaged  the  island,  and 
the  former  seigniory  was  made  a  marquisate  in 
1597,  in  favour  of  Rene  de  Rieux,  the  governor 


Finistere  235 


of  Brest,  whose  descendants  sold  their  birth- 
right to  the  king  in  1764. 

The  glorious  battle  of  Ouessant  —  at  least, 
the  French  call  it  "la  glorieuse  bataille,"  and 
so  it  really  was  —  took  place  in  1778  in  the 
neighbouring  waters  between  a  French  fleet 
under  the  Comte  d'Orvilliers  and  the  English 
Admiral  Keppel. 

As  may  be  supposed,  these  far-jutting,  rocky 
islands  have  been  the  scene  of  many  ship- 
wrecks. There  is  a  proverb  known  to  mariners 
which  classes  these  Breton  isles  as  follows: 

"  Who  sights  Belle  Tie  sights  his  refuge, 
Who  sights  lie  Groix  sights  joy, 
Who  sights  Ouessant  sights  blood." 

When  a  sailorman  of  Ouessant  is  lost  at 
sea,  his  parents  or  friends  bring  to  his  former 
dwelling  a  little  cross  of  wood,  which  serves 
the  purpose  of  a  corpse,  and  the  clergy  officiate 
over  it,  and  his  friends  weep  over  it  as  if  it 
were  his  true  body. 

Finally  a  procession  forms,  and,  with  much 
solemnity,  this  little  cross  of  wood,  after  having 
been  placed  in  a  casket,  is  deposited  at  the  foot 
of  a  statue  of  St.  Pol,  a  sad  and  glorious  sym- 
bol of  grief  and  also  of  hope. 

The  women  of  Ouessant.  whether  in  mourn- 
ing or  not  —  and  they  mostly  are  in  mourning 


236  Rambles  in  Brittany 

—  wear  a  costume  of  black  cloth,  cut  their  hair 
short  and  wear  a  square  sort  of  cap.  For  the 
most  part,  the  inhabitants  —  all  those,  in  fact, 
who  are  natives,  and  there  are  but  few  main- 
landers  here  —  speak  only  Breton. 

The  Lighthouse  de  Creac'h,  a  white  and  black 
painted  tower,  with  a  magnificent  light  flash- 
ing its  rays  twenty-four  miles  out  at  sea,  is  a 
monument  to  the  parental  French  government, 
which  neglects  nothing  in  the  way  of  guarding 
its  coasts  by  modern  search-lights,  quite  the 
best  of  their  kind  in  all  the  known  world.  There 
is  another  light  here  known  as  the  Stiff  Light- 
house, which  carries  eighteen  miles. 

Near  the  lighthouse  is  the  tiny  chapel  of  Our 
Lady  of  Farewells,  a  place  of  pilgrimage  on 
the  day  of  the  local  pardon  (1st  September). 

On  the  mainland,  just  north  of  Brest  and 
Le  Conquet,  on  the  way  to  the  Channel,  is  St. 
Kenan,  the  site  of  an  ancient  hermitage  founded 
by  an  anchorite  who  came  from  Ireland  some 
time  in  the  eighth  century.  There  are  many 
quaint  sixteenth-century  houses  here,  and  a 
large  market-house  of  the  spectacular  order. 

Ploudalmezeau  is  an  important  town  of 
Lower  Leon  with  a  Hotel  Bretagne  —  as  might 
be  expected  —  also  most  excellent  —  also  as 
might  be   expected  —  except   for   its   sanitary 


Lighthouse  of  Creach,  Ouessant 


Finistere  237 


conveniences,  which,  to  say  nothing  of  not  being 
up  to  date,  are  practically  non-existent.  It  is 
very  disconcerting  of  a  rainy  autumn  morning 
to  have  to  go  down  to  the  back  yard  puits  — 
as  a  pump  or  well  is  variously  known  —  in 
order  to  perform  one's  ablutions. 

The  comparatively  modern  church  is  far 
more  magnificent  than  one  would  expect  to  find 
in  so  small  a  town.  It  contains  a  curious  statue 
of  the  Virgin  with  a  Breton  coif,  and  also  a 
fine  modern  fresco  by  Yan  d 'Argent.  A  thir- 
teenth-century sculptured  cross  is  to  be  seen 
in  the  churchyard. 

Folgoet  has  an  important  local  fair,  and  is 
celebrated  throughout  all  Brittany  for  the  pil- 
grimage to  its  magnificent  shrine  of  Our  Lady 
of  Folgoet,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  ecclesi- 
astical monuments  of  the  province. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century 
there  lived  in  the  neighbouring  forest  a  poor 
idiot  named  Salaun,  better  known  as  the  for- 
est fool ;  in  Breton,  Folgoet.  After  his  death, 
there  appeared  written  on  the  leaves  of  a  great 
white  lily,  in  letters  of  gold,  the  admonition 
to  the  people  to  build  a  great  church  here  to 
the  glory  of  Our  Lady,  and  this  was  begun  in 
1409,  and  consecrated  in  1419 ;  it  became  a  col- 
legiate church  in  1423.     It  has  neither  tran- 


238  Rambles  in  Brittany 

septs  nor  apse,  but  is  in  every  other  particular 
a  remarkably  beautiful  work.  There  are  many 
interior  furnishings  of  great  value. 

Folgoet  is  at  its  best  on  the  great  day  of  the 
pardon,  on  the  eighth  of  September. 

St.  Pol  de  Leon,  Roscoff,  and  Morlaix  call 
the  hurried  tourist  off  to  the  northward,  though 
why  a  tourist  ever  should  be  hurried  is  some- 
thing the  true  vagabond  never  can  understand. 

Roscoff  has  much  to  endear  it  to  any  one. 
It  has  not  the  loneliness  or  even  the  quaintness 
of  some  of  the  daintily  set  seacoast  towns  of 
the  South,  but  its  unique  attractions  are  so 
many  and  varied  that  one  loves  it  for  itself 
alone,  quite  as  much  as  if  it  were  a  celebrated 
artists'  sketching-ground,  and  far  more  than 
one  would  were  it  a  really  "  popular  "  resort. 

First  of  all,  it  is  celebrated  for  its  early  veg- 
etables, due  principally  to  the  excellence  of  its 
soil,  and  secondly  to  the  mildness  of  its  climate. 

Because  of  its  temperate  climate,  Roscoff 
might  be  called  the  Mentone  of  the  North, 
though  it  is  not  yet  overrun  by  invalids  and 
bath-chairs.  Summer  and  winter,  it  is  a  water- 
ing-place, with  fir-trees  replacing  the  palms  of 
the  South.  The  visitor  should  remark  the  enor- 
mous fig-tree  in  the  Capuchins'  enclosure,  the 
grounds  of  an  ancient  convent  (1621),  which  is 


Finistere 


239 


now  private  property,  and  costs  the   sum  of 
twenty-five  centimes  to  see. 
The  Church  of  Our  Lady  of  Croaz-Baz,  with 


Tloscof 
<•»•»'«  STuorfr 


Roscoff 

its  fine  domed  tower  dating  from  1550,  is  one 
of  the  chief  ecclesiastical  monuments  of  Brit- 
tany. 

Among  the  many  quaint  and  curious  houses 
of  the  town  is  one  known  as  the  house  of  Mary 


240  Rambles  in  Brittany 

Stuart.  In  its  interior  court  are  seven  arcades 
supported  by  columns,  quite  like  a  convent 
cloister,  a  disposition  of  parts  which  must  be 
purely  local,  as  other  examples  are  to  be  seen 
elsewhere  in  the  town.  Another  memory  of  the 
Scottish  queen,  whose  last,  long,  sad  adieu  to 
France  is  one  of  the  links  that  never  breaks, 
is  the  Chapel  of  St.  Ninian,  built  in  1548  as  a 
souvenir  of  her  landing  when  she  first  came 
to  France  as  the  betrothed  of  the  Dauphin.  It 
is  a  most  romantically  disposed  structure, 
though  with  no  architectural  details  of  worth 
except  a  small  turret  at  an  angle  jutting  over 
the  lapping  waves. 

Eoscoff  has  a  Chapel  des  Adieux,  where  the 
wives  and  mothers  of  the  fishermen  go  to  pray 
as  the  men  embark  for  the  fishing. 

Offshore,  a  quarter-hour  distant  by  boat,  is 
the  Isle  of  Batz,  separated  from  Koscoff  only 
by  a  narrow  strait,  with  a  current  so  swift  that 
the  passage  is  only  possible  in  the  best  of 
weather.  It  does  not  look  so  very  perilous  an 
undertaking  at  other  times,  but  the  Eoscoff 
sailorman  certainly  does  know  how  to  handle 
a  boat,  and  when  he  says  "  No,"  it's  best  not 
to  attempt  to  persuade  him  to  the  contrary. 
He  will  not  mind  a  wetting  himself,  —  if  you 
pay  him  a  fair  price  for  the  undertaking,  — 


Finistere  241 


but  he  will  probably  want,  and  be  entitled  to, 
a  good,  fat  fee  for  rescuing  his  passenger  from 
drowning. 

The  Isle  of  Batz,  like  most  places  in  Brittany, 
has  its  own  legend.  It  is  to  the  effect  that  St. 
Pol,  coming  in  530  from  Britain  to  this  low, 
gray,  melancholy  islet,  met  a  dragon,  which, 
having  ravaged  the  neighbouring  mainland 
country,  had  fled  hither  in  order  to  escape  the 
fury  of  the  peasant-folk. 

St.  Pol,  as  became  one  who  had  the  interests 
of  his  fellow  men  at  heart,  forthwith  killed 
the  monster,  and  conveyed  the  news  to  the  peo- 
ple awaiting  his  return  by  rapping  on  the 
ground  with  his  baton  (batz). 

The  rise  and  fall  of  the  tide  at  the  Isle  of 
Batz  shows  remarkable  fluctuations,  ten  metres, 
something  more  than  thirty  feet,  being  noted 
between  high  and  low  water. 

Its  coast-line  has  great  banks  of  sand,  a  de- 
light to  the  bather  in  salt  water,  but  the  rock 
formations  are  by  no  means  so  remarkable  as 
those  on  most  of  the  Breton  isles.  The  soil 
is  arid  and  there  is  not  much  luxuriant  vege- 
tation. There  is  a  population  of  over  twelve 
hundred  souls,  but  few  apparently  have  any 
ambition  to  migrate  to  the  mainland,  scarce  a 
rifle-shot  distant.    In  the  island  church  is  pre- 


242  Rambles  in  Brittany- 

served  the  stole  of  St.  Pol,  of  Byzantine  silk. 
If  genuine,  it  has  attained  a  greater  age  than 
most  confections  of  its  class.  An  ancient  Ro- 
man chapel  or  temple  existed  here  in  former 
times,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  monastery 
founded  by  St.  Pol,  now  in  ruins  and  mostly 
buried  in  the  sands. 

St.  Pol's  renown  became  such  that  a  Breton 
king  made  him  Archbishop  of  Leon,  giving  him 
special  care  and  control  of  the  city  bearing  his 
name.  These  rights  came  down  to  the  holy 
man's  successors,  and  the  place  became  more 
religious  than  politic,  as  one  reads  in  the  old- 
time  chronicles.  The  riches  which  had  been 
acquired  attracted  the  Normans,  who  devas- 
tated the  cathedral  church  in  875.  In  the  four- 
teenth century,  Duguesclin  occupied  the  town 
in  the  name  of  Charles  V.  The  religious  wars 
of  the  sixteenth  century  diminished  the  pros- 
perity of  the  town,  and  a  bloody  submission 
was  forced  upon  the  Revolutionary  rebels  here 
in  1793. 

St.  Pol  is  somewhat  doubtfully  claimed  as 
the  native  place  of  the  celebrated  sixteenth- 
century  sculptor,  Michel  Colomb  (1512). 

The  Chapel  of  Creizker  or  Creis-ker,  with 
its  astonishing  bell-tower  piercing  the  sky  at 
a  height  of  nearly  250  feet,  owes  its  origin  to 


Finistere  243 


a  young  girl  of  Leon,  whom  St.  Kirec,  Arch- 
deacon of  Leon  in  the  sixth  century,  had  cured 
of  paralysis.  The  present  structure  is,  of 
course,  more  modern.  Albert  le  Grand  fixes  the 
date  in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  this  is  prob- 
ably correct.  There  are  innumerable  evidences 
of  the  best  of  Gothic  workmen,  and  there  is 
much  decorative  embellishment  which,  though 
not  according  to  the  accepted  Gothic  forms, 
is  certainly  not  Eenaissance. 

The  ancient  cathedral  merits  rank  with  the 
Chapel  of  Creizker,  and  is  perhaps  even  a  more 
consistent  piece  of  work,  though  it  represents 
three  distinct  epochs.  The  two  towers  are  con- 
siderably less  in  height  than  that  of  the  Creiz- 
ker, but  they  are  beautifully  spired.  The  in- 
terior contains  innumerable  decorative  acces- 
sories, making  it  rank  with  those  cathedrals 
of  France  making  up  that  third  series,  of  which 
Nantes,  Coutances,  Narbonne,  and  Angers  are 
the  best  examples. 

In  the  choir  is  the  tomb  of  St.  Pol,  and  his 
skull,  an  arm  bone,  and  a  finger  are  encased 
in  a  little  coffer  for  the  veneration  of  the  de- 
vout. 

There  is  a  series  of  sixty-nine  delicately 
sculptured  choir-stalls  dating  from  1512,  and, 
although    not    rivalling    such    great    works    of 


244  Rambles  in  Brittany 


their  kind  as  one  sees  at  their  best  at  Amiens, 
Albi,  or  Rodez,  they  are  sufficiently  elaborate 
to  deserve  attention. 

Innumerable  tombs  are  set  about  the  choir, 
many  of  them  curiously  and  characteristically 
sculptured. 

There  is  also  a  tiny  bell  which  passes  for 
having  belonged  to  St.  Pol.  On  the  days  of 
pardon  the  notes  of  this  ancient  bell  still  ring 


out  over  the  heads  of  the  faithful,  who  believe 
that  they  will  cure  any  malady  of  the  head  or 
hearing. 

In  one  of  the  chapels  of  the  Cathedral  of  St. 
Pol  de  Leon  is  an  ancient  painting.  It  depicts 
a  head  with  three  visages,  with  the  legend  in 
Gothic-Breton  characters,  "  Ma  Douez  "  (Man 
Bleu).  It  represents,  of  course,  the  Trinity, 
but,  like  many  religious  symbols,  is  more  gro- 
tesque than  devout. 

Morlaix,  the  ancient  Mons  Eelaxus  of  Roman 


Finistere  245 


times,  is  the  metropolis  of  the  northwestern 
Breton  coast.  It  achieved  no  great  importance, 
until  it  came  under  the  sway  of  the  Breton 
dukes,  and  became  one  of  their  principal  resi- 
dences. The  inhabitants  of  Morlaix  declared 
for  the  League  in  the  period  of  the  religious 
wars,  and  the  castle  was  besieged  and  carried 
by  the  troops  of  the  king  under  Marshal  d'Au- 
mont,  in  1594. 

Being  at  the  head  of  the  great  bay  of  Mor- 
laix, or,  rather,  just  above  it,  at  the  juncture 
of  the  rivers  Jarlot  and  Quefflent,  the  city  en- 
joys a  novel  situation,  and  contains  many  curi- 
ous contrasting  effects  of  the  old  and  new  order 
of  things. 

The  Viaduct  of  Morlaix,  by  which  the  railway 
traverses  the  town,  is  really  an  imposing  sight, 
and  is  reckoned  as  the  chief  of  its  class  in  all 
France.  The  natives  show  an  astonishing 
vagueness  or  ignorance  with  regard  thereto. 
You  will  be  told  that  it  was  the  work  of  the 
Romans,  —  "  very  ancient,  look  you,"  —  and 
again  that  it  was  one  of  the  works  of  the  in- 
defatigable Vauban,  who  must  really  have 
worked  in  his  sleep,  or  through  understudies, 
if  all  the  works  attributed  to  him  throughout 
France  be  genuine.  Vauban  must  have  been 
to  France  what  Michelangelo  was  to  the  uni- 


246  Rambles  in  Brittany 

verse,  —  according  to  the  genial,  though  skep- 
tical, Mark  Twain. 

The  Church  of  St.  Martin  in  the  Fields  is  the 
chief  ecclesiastical  monument  of  Morlaix,  in 
point  of  antiquity  at  least,  as  it  dates  from  the 
ancient  priory  foundation  of  1128,  by  Herve, 
Count  of  Leon. 

The  Church  of  St.  Melaine  originated  also 
in  the  fifteenth-century  priory  of  the  same 
name,  founded  by  Guyormarc'h  de  Leon. 

The  local  museum,  which  is  an  unusually 
splendid  establishment  for  a  town  the  size  of 
Morlaix,  possesses  a  collection  of  modern  paint- 
ings, including  a  great  number  of  Breton 
scenes,  forming  a  wonderfully  interesting  ex- 
position of  Breton  manners  and  customs. 

There  are  innumerable  old  houses  in  wood 
and  stone  here,  and  they  put  Morlaix  in  the 
rank  with  Lisieux,  in  Normandy,  for  its  pictur- 
esque and  tumble-down  effects  of  the  domestic 
architecture  of  other  days. 

One  of  the  finest  examples  of  a  great  house 
of  its  time  is  that  called  Pouliguen,  which  has 
a  fine  carved  wood  staircase  that  no  one  can 
afford  to  miss  seeing. 

The  harbour  of  Morlaix  opens  out  widely 
into  the  channel,  and  is  commanded  by  the 
Chateau  du  Taureau,  in  reality  a  granite  for- 


Carved  Wood  Staircase,  Morlaix 


Finistere 


247 


tress,  one  of  the  military  defences  of  the  north 
coast.  St.  Jean  du  Doigt  and  the  Point  of 
Primel  lie  some  twenty  kilometres  north  of 
Morlaix,  directly  on  the  coast.  The  former  is 
the  scene  of  one  of  the  most  picturesque  of 
pardons  and  is  celebrated  throughout  Brittany. 
Its  name  comes  from  its  church  (1440  - 1513), 
in  which  the  index  finger  of  the  right  hand  of 
St.  John  the  Baptist  is  kept.    The  churchyard 


triUl-4tMlW 


Procession  of  Sailors,  St.  Jean  du  Doigt 


has  a  fine  Gothic  entrance  gateway  and  a  fu- 
neral chapel  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Within 
the  same  enclosure  is  also  an  elaborate  foun- 
tain surrounded  by  a  Renaissance  construction 
of  much  beauty.  It  was  planned  by  Anne  of 
Brittany,  who  brought  an  artist  from  Italy  to 
design  the  work.  The  Pardon  of  St.  Jean  du 
Doigt  takes  place  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  June 
of  each  year.  Decidedly  it  is  not  to  be  omitted 
from  one's  itinerary,  if  it  be  possible  to  in- 
clude it. 


248  Rambles  in  Brittany 

It  is  one  of  the  strangest  survivals  of  the 
belief  in  an  ancient  holy  relique  yet  existing 
in  France,  and  annually  attracts  great  hordes 
of  the  devout  from  all  parts  of  Brittany  and 
France,  to  say  nothing  of  strangers  from  over- 
sea. 

A  good  motor-car  is  indispensable  to  enable 
one  to  flee  from  the  throng  after  it  is  all  over, 
for  the  railway  lies  at  least  a  dozen  miles  away, 
and  local  conveyances  are  scarce,  poor,  and 
expensive. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


THE    COTES   DU    NORD 


The  north  coast  of  Brittany,  the  present-day 
Department  of  the  Cotes  du  Nord,  is  the  great 
stretch  of  coast-line  between  Morlaix  on  the 
west  to  the  Bay  of  Mont  St.  Michel  at  Dol. 
Its  large  towns  are  few  in  number,  but  the 
whole  region  is  unusually  prolific  in  the  mem- 
ory of  deeds  of  a  historic  past,  and  accordingly 
it  has  become  the  favourite  touring-ground  of 
a  great  number  of  French  and  English  summer 
visitors  who,  it  is  regretfully  stated,  have  be- 
come responsible  for  a  good  deal  of  the  clap- 
trap and  many  of  the  catchpenny  devices. 

It  is  possible  to  avoid  casinos,  tea-rooms,  and 
golf-links,  but  they  are  more  abundant  here  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Dinan,  St.  Malo,  and 
Dinard  than  in  most  other  parts  of  Continental 
Europe.  This  is  a  pity,  for  the  region  is  one 
of  the  most  delightfully  picturesque  anywhere, 
although  there  is  little  of  the  grandeur  of  deso- 
lation about  it. 

249 


250  Rambles  in  Brittany 

A  great  national  road  runs  northwesterly 
from  Guingamp  to  Lannion  and  Treguier,  two 
outposts  of  the  Cotes  du  Nord  so  far  off  the 
beaten  track  that  they  are  not  as  yet  overrun 
with  the  conventional  tourists.  There  is  little 
at  either  place  to  amuse  one,  except  the  local 
manners  and  customs,  but  they  are  quaint  and 
interesting  beyond  belief,  and  the  wonderful 
combinations  of  sea  and  sky,  which  will  make 
the  artist's  heart  leap  for  joy. 

Lannion  boasts  of  six  thousand  inhabitants, 
most  of  whom  play  at  bowls  on  Sunday  or  a 
feast-day,  and  other  days  engage  in  the  sundry 
humble  pursuits  of  the  usual  Breton  large  town. 

The  name  Lannion  first  appeared  in  the 
twelfth  century,  when  the  seigniory  of  Lannion 
formed  a  part  of  the  domain  of  the  house  of 
Penthievre,  which  was  united  with  that  of  Brit- 
tany in  1199. 

There  are  three  quaint  and  charming  hotels 
at  Lannion,  at  any  of  which  you  will  get  the 
best  of  local  fare  at  prices  ranging  from  120 
to  220  francs  per  month  —  all  found.  One  will 
not  go  wrong  at  any  of  them,  and  one  does 
not  differ  greatly  from  another,  in  spite  of 
the  difference  in  price.  There  is  an  abun- 
dance of  what  is  commonly  known  as  good 
cheer,  by  which  is  really  meant  good  fare,  and 


The  Cotes  du  Nord 251 

there  are  comfortable  beds,  a  sound  roof  over 
one's  head,  and  genial  hosts,  of  course. 

This  estimable  person  is  literally  everywhere 
at  once,  showing  the  guests  to  their  rooms,  pre- 
siding at  the  table,  or,  at  least,  at  the  serving 
of  it,  and  generally  overseeing  everything  that 
goes  on. 

"  Allons,  messieurs,  a  table,"  is  called,  in  a 
melodious  voice,  instead  of  the  ringing  of  the 
usual  brain-racking  bell,  and  one  by  one  travel- 
ling salesmen,  the  permanent  guests,  and  the 
mere  tourists  seat  themselves  at  the  long  table, 
which  literally  groans  —  like  those  in  the  his- 
torical novels  —  with  the  best  of  country  cook- 
ery. There  is  nothing  Parisian  about  it ;  there 
are  no  ices,  no  forced  fruit,  and  no  savoury 
messes  with  mushrooms  and  truffles,  but  there 
is  the  abundant  and  excellent  local  fare  of  sea 
food,  hung  mutton,  new  potatoes  and  aspara- 
gus, and  little  wood  strawberries  in  heaps,  and 
that  delightful  golden  cider,  which,  if  it  be  not 
an  improvement  on  the  Norman  variety,  is  just 
as  good,  and  a  delightful  summer  drink. 

The  fine  location  of  Lannion,  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  estuary  of  the  little  river  Leguer, 
accounts  for  much  of  the  local  charm,  and  the 
habit  that  the  population  has  of  grouping  itself 
picturesquely    about    the    quay-side  —  without 


252  Rambles  in  Brittany 

the  least  provocation  —  accounts  for  a  good 
deal  more. 

There  are  many  old  houses  in  the  town,  and 
other  more  pretentious  architectural  monu- 
ments, offering  enough  variety  to  the  artist 
or  lover  of  architecture  to  occupy  him  a  long 
time. 

The  port  is  a  harbour  of  refuge,  of  which 
there  are  not  many  on  the  north  coast  of  Brit- 
tany, and  the  traffic  in  salmon  and  sardines  is 
considerable,  though  not  rivalling  in  bulk  that 
of  the  greater  ports  in  the  southwest. 

Treguier  has  much  the  same  attractions  as 
Lannion,  though  its  population  is  but  half  as 
large.  Its  origin  was  some  huts  which  anciently 
grouped  themselves  around  the  monastery  of 
Trecar,  founded  by  St.  Tugdal  in  the  sixth  cen- 
tury. It  has  an  imposing  cathedral,  a  really 
great  religious  edifice,  and  one  which  for  the 
beauty  of  its  parts  is  scarcely  excelled  by  that 
of  Quimper  itself. 

The  history  of  Treguier  was  very  lively, 
from  the  time  of  the  Norman  invasion  of  Brit- 
tany down  through  the  troublous  days  of  the 
Revolution. 

The  men  of  Treguier,  one  learns  from  his- 
tory, accepted  the  law  of  the  "  rights  of  man  " 
but  coldly,  and  indeed  M.  le  Mintier,  Bishop  of 


The  Cotes  du  Nord 


253 


Treguier,  was  one  of  those  churchmen  barred 
from  the  National  Assembly  by  the  manifesto. 
He  fled  to  Jersey. 

Treguier  is  the  native  place  of  Ernest  Renan 


OLOHOUSE. 

Th.ec-ru  i'e*. 


(1823  -  92),  and  his  quaint,  timbered  house  may 
well  be  considered  a  literary  shrine  of  the  very 
first  rank. 

Convents,  where  women  may  find  a  quiet 
refuge  away  from  the  world,  are  not  so  numer- 
ous as  they  once  were  in  France.  "  Boarding- 
houses  kept  for  unprotected  women  by  nuns, 


254 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


House  of  Ernest    Renan,    Tre'gtiier 


with  a  supposed  Christian  devotion  and  a  pro- 
found appreciation  of  ready  money,"  was  the 
way  in  which  an  English  writer  once  spoke  of 
them,  and  it  was  most  unfair.     Certainly,  the 


The  Cotes  du  Nord  255 

writer  of  those  lines  never  knew  —  and  she  pro- 
fessed to  know  France  —  the  Convent  of  the 
Cross  at  Treguier,  where  women  can  live  in 
quiet  seclusion,  "  all  found,"  for  a  matter  of 
seventy-five  francs  a  month.  To  those  inter- 
ested, the  above  may  be  worth  investigation. 

Not  far  off  is  the  Manor  of  Kermartin, 
where,  in  1255,  St.  Yves,  the  patron  saint  of 
advocates,  was  born. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  May  a  procession  sets 
out  from  the  Treguier  cathedral  for  this  shrine, 
to  render  homage  to  the  patron  of  the  men 
of  law.  On  the  eve  of  the  nineteenth  all  mendi- 
cants and  vagabonds  presenting  themselves  at 
the  manor  are  fed  and  lodged,  which  makes  the 
perpetuation  of  the  ceremony  one  of  real  ben- 
efit to  humanity,  though  its  endurance  is  brief. 

St.  Yves  is  the  only  canonized  Breton  saint. 
He  was  born  on  the  seventh  of  October,  1253, 
and  accompanied  Peter  of  Dreux,  reigning 
duke,  to  the  seventh  crusade. 

In  the  Breton  tongue  his  praises  are  sung  as 
follows : 

"  N'hen  eus  ket  en  Breiz,  n'hen  eus  ket  unan, 
N'hen  eus  ket  eur  Zant  evel  Sant  Erwan." 

This  in  French  comes  to  the  following: 

"  II  n'y  a  pas  en  Bretagne,  il  n'y  en  a  pas  un, 
H  n'y  a  pas  nn  Saint  comme  St.  Yves." 


256 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


The  last  will  and  testament  of  St.  Yves  is 
preserved  in  the  sacristy  of  the  Church  de 
Minihy,  and  also  his  breviary.  His  tomb  is 
in   the    cemetery,    surmounted   by   an    arcade 


Shrine  of  St.    Yves,   Treguier 

through    which    the    faithful    pass,    crawling 
upon  their  knees  when  they  seek  his  aid. 

Not  many  travellers  in  France  have  ever 
even  heard  of  Seven  Isles,  situated  five  kilo- 
metres or  more  off  the  coast  near  Treguier. 
The  corsairs  of  Jersey  and  Guernsey  took  ref- 


The  Cotes  du  Nord  257 


uge  upon  this  little  archipelago  in  the  olden 
time,  and  long  maintained  a  form  of  govern- 
ment quite  of  their  own  making,  and  even 
erected  fortifications,  of  which  that  on  the  lie 
aux  Moines  has  still  some  suggestion  of 
strength. 

Usually  quite  deserted,  there  are  two  sea- 
sons of  the  year  when  the  isles  take  on  a  pop- 
ulation of  residents  from  the  mainland  entirely 
out  of  keeping  with  their  size  and  number: 
in  February  for  seaweed  gathering,  and  from 
June  to  September  for  the  gathering  of  sea- 
mosses,  or  jargot,  as  the  natives  call  it.  One 
who  would  experience  something  out  of  the 
ordinary  could  not  do  better  than  make  this 
little  excursion.  The  passage  from  the  main- 
land does  not  look  so  very  terrible  to  the 
stranger,  but  not  even  the  hardy  fishermen  will 
attempt  it  if  the  sky  is  the  least  threatening. 
He  says  simply,  "  Only  go  out  in  very  fine 
weather,' '  and  sits  tight  and  prays  and  whistles 
for  that  same  fine  weather,  though  he  evidently 
does  not  expect  it  to  come  very  soon,  for  with 
every  bit  of  fleecy  cloud  that  crosses  his  vision, 
he  exclaims:    "  Big  storm  soon!  " 

Paimpol  is  situated  at  the  head  of  a  well- 
sheltered  bay  on  the  banks  of  an  infinitesimal 
little  river  known  as  Quinic.    There  is  nothing 


258  Rambles  in  Brittany 

to  mark  Paimpol  as  a  tourist  resort,  and  ac- 
cordingly it  is  almost  an  ideal  resting-place  for 
one  wearied  with  the  onrush  of  the  world.  It 
is  not  even  a  bathing-place,  as  it  well  might 
be.  Its  long  Rue  de  l'Eglise  is  its  principal 
thoroughfare,  and  through  it  all  the  small  traf- 
fic of  the  town  circulates  at  a  most  sedate  pace. 

The  church  dates  from  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, and  is  a  lovely  old  structure  with  admi- 
rable Gothic  pillars  and  arches  in  its  nave,  and 
a  fine  fourteenth-century  rose  window. 

The  port  of  Paimpol  has  a  most  interesting 
rise  and  fall  of  life,  particularly  at  the  season 
of  the  setting  out  and  the  return  of  the  Iceland 
fishermen.  In  the  trade  in  codfish  caught  off 
the  Icelandic  coasts,  this  place  occupies  the  first 
rank,  being  the  home  port  of  those  who  fish  in 
Icelandic  waters,  and  all  along  the  quays  of 
the  sad  little  town  of  Paimpol  (sad,  because 
there  are  so  many  widows  there,  —  the  lone 
partners  of  those  who  have  lost  their  lives  at 
sea)  are  to  be  seen  the  Iceland  schooners. 
Everything  in  the  town  smacks  of  the  memory 
of  Iceland:  the  schooners,  the  ex-votos  in  the 
churches,  the  widows,  the  sturdy  but  gloomy 
fisherfolk  themselves,  and  the  stones  in  the 
churchyard.  "  The  Iceland  fog  enshrouds 
everything,"  the  native  tells  you,  but  still  the 


The  Cotes  du  Nord  259 

work  goes  on,  and  each  year,  with  the  coming 
of  the  spring  days,  the  exodus  begins,  after  a 
winter's  hard  work  at  refurbishing  and  refit- 
ting of  the  little  two-masters  and  three-masters 
of  the  fishers.  It  is  here  that  one  may  hear 
that  Breton  sailor's  prayer,  which  is  so  devout 
and  full  of  faith:  "  Mon  Dieu  protege  nous, 
car  la  mer  est  si  grand  et  nos  bateaux  si  petit s." 

Cod,  whale,  mackerel,  and  herring  are  all 
marketable  products  to  the  nets  of  the  Paim- 
polans. 

The  Isle  of  Brehat  is  near  Paimpol,  lying 
just  off  the  coast.  If  one  seek  to  arrange  a 
passage,  thereto,  he  goes  by  public  carriage, 
and  not  by  boat,  until  he  gets  to  the  tip  of  the 
Pointe  Arcouest,  when  he  transfers  himself 
and  his  luggage  to  a  sailboat,  and  travels  as 
one  did  before  the  age  of  steam. 

The  Isle  of  Brehat  is  another  of  those  rocky 
islets  which  dot  the  coast  of  Brittany,  and  look 
not  only  as  if  they  were  barren  and  unculti- 
vated, but  as  if  they  were  also  uninhabited. 
All  the  same,  their  appearance  from  a  distance 
is  misleading.  There  are  close  upon  a  thou- 
sand inhabitants  on  the  parent  isle  and  the 
attendant  flock  of  little  islets  sheltered  under 
its  wing.  In  the  olden  time,  the  island  was  a 
strong  place  of  war,  with  batteries  and  forti- 


260  Rambles  in  Brittany 

fications  against  which  the  English,  the  Lea- 
guers, and  the  Royalists  tried  their  strength  in 
turn. 

The  isle  is  what  the  sailor-folk  roundabout 
call  "  a  good  port  of  refuge,"  for  there  are 
divers  little  sheltered  harbours  to  which  ships 
of  all  classes  can  run  from  the  storms  of  the 
open  sea. 

The  principal  town  is  known  as  Brehat,  and 
possesses  a  church  dating  from  1700,  a  tiny 
hotel,  and  an  inn  or  two,  mostly  catering  to 
local  customers.  If  one  would  leave  the  main- 
land, and  its  questionable  attractions  of  civi- 
lization behind,  and  live  the  simple  life  to  the 
full,  he  can  do  it  here  to  the  most  exquisite 
degree,  —  if  he  does  not  mind  the  sea-fogs  of 
the  winter. 

Guingamp,  lying  inland  in  the  rich  valley 
of  the  Trieux,  is  the  market-town  of  the  arron- 
dissement  of  the  same  name.  It  is  of  feudal 
origin,  and  was  the  ancient  capital  of  the  count- 
ship,  later  the  duchy,  of  Penthievre,  and  of  the 
ancient  Goello  land. 

Guingamp  Castle  is  a  great  square  building, 
flanked  by  four  massive  towers,  of  which  one 
has  been  practically  destroyed. 

The  Church  of  Our  Lady  of  Good  Help,  of 
the  fourteenth  to  sixteenth  centuries,  is  a  mag- 


The  Cotes  du  Nord 


261 


nificent  work  of  its  era,  with  an  elaborately 
furnished  interior. 

The  Pardon  of  Bon  Secours  is  Guingamp's 
gayest  event  of  all  the  year.  In  numbers,  it  is 
one  of  the  largest  in  Brittany,  and  is  held  on 
the  Saturday  before  the  first  Sunday  in  July. 
On  this  occasion  the  statue  of 
Our  Lady,  within  the  porch  of 
the  church,  is  clad  in  a  silken 
robe,  and  receives  the  pilgrims, 
who  refresh  themselves  with 
water  previously  consecrated 
at  its  source.  With  the  fall  of 
the  sun  commences  a  continual 
round  of  national  dances,  in- 
spired by  the  lonesome,  sharp, 
shrill  wail  of  the  binious, 
played  in  much  the  same  way 
as  are  +he  Scotch  bagpipes,  ex- 
cept that  their  music  is  even 
more  shrill  and  heartrending  —  if  possible.  At 
nine  o'clock  the  statue  of  the  Virgin  is  brought 
to  the  public  square,  solemnly  conveyed  by  an 
immense  procession,  and  three  great  bonfires 
are  lighted.  At  midnight  a  high  mass  termi- 
nates the  celebration,  and  some  of  the  pilgrims 
depart,  and  others  remain  for  the  banquet 
which  invariably  follows. 


^JP'y^C'^  ^INOU  PLAYER. 


262  Rambles  in  Brittany 

On  the  eighth  of  September,  1857,  the  Ma- 
donna of  Guingamp  received  the  crown  of  gold 
from  the  chapter  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  on 
behalf  of  the  Pope,  a  distinction  offered  to 
images  of  the  Virgin  uniting  the  three  traits 
of  antiquity,  popularity,  and  miracle-working. 

' '  La  Pompe, ' '  or  the  Fontaine,  in  hammered 
lead,  is  one  of  the  chief  artistic  curiosities  of 
Guingamp.  It  is  a  remarkable  work  in  every 
way,  and  dates  from  1588,  since  which  time  it 
has  only  been  repaired  —  not  reconstructed. 
Its  preservation  is  wonderful,  and  it  is  an  em- 
bellishment of  which  even  a  greater  town 
might  well  be  proud. 

Aside  from  the  fragment  of  the  castle,  there 
are  no  mediaeval  gateways  or  walls  to  remind 
one  of  the  military  importance  of  the  place 
in  former  days.  A  century  and  a  quarter  ago, 
a  traveller  wrote :  l '  Enter  Guingamp  by  gate- 
ways, towers,  and  battlements  of  the  oldest 
military  architecture,  every  part  denoting 
antiquity,  and  in  the  best  preservation.' '  All 
this,  unhappily,  has  disappeared,  and  one  has 
to  go  to  Vitre  and  Fougeres  to  see  military 
architecture  in  Brittany. 

Eastward  from  Guingamp  toward  St.  Brieuc, 
one  passes  —  the  traveller  by  road  or  rail  sel- 
dom   stops  —  Chatelaudren.      It   is    a   conven- 


The  Cotes  du  Nord 263 

tional  Breton  small  town,  but  it  is  a  market- 
town,  nevertheless.  It  has  not  much  of  inter- 
est for  any  one  unless  he  be  a  keen  observer 
of  manners  and  customs,  hence  it  is  but  a  way 
station  between  the  two  larger  towns. 

St.  Brieuc  is  a  city,  although  it  has  no  tram- 
cars  to  dodge  and  no  restaurants  or  Hotels 
Etrangers,  which  is  a  good  thing  for  the  native 
and  the  tourist  alike. 

In  reality  its  half-dozen  hotels  rise  to  the 
distinction  of  being  known  as  "  establish- 
ments," yet  they  have  lost  none  of  their  local 
flavour.  St.  Brieuc  is  the  metropolis  where 
the  summer  visitors  —  Parisians  all  —  of  the 
beaches  come  to  buy  the  little  necessaries  and 
luxuries  which  a  mere  watering-place  fails  to 
supply.  Then,  too,  one  who  is  rusticating,  even 
in  a  delightful  spot  like  Val  Andre,  lacks  no- 
tably the  inspiration  coming  from  a  more  or 
less  frequent  contact  with  a  large  centre,  and 
so  he  hies  himself  to  a  market-town,  gets  the 
fare  of  the  country  at  a  hotel  for  travelling 
salesmen,  and  has  a  bit  of  the  transmitted  gos- 
sip of  the  capital  over  a  bock  at  the  principal 
cafe;  after  this  —  voild!  the  seaside  again  for 
a  time. 

This  may  not  be  the  Anglo-Saxon  way  of 


264  Rambles  in  Brittany 

treating  a  similar  situation,  but  it  is  exactly 
after  the  French  method. 

St.  Brieuc  is  the  seat  of  a  bishopric,  suffra- 
gan of  the  metropolitan  see  of  Brittany  at 
Kennes.  Its  origin  is  due  to  a  missionary  who 
came  with  eight  disciples  at  the  end  of  the  fifth 
century  to  evangelize  Armorica.  As  a  place  of 
pilgrimage,  —  the  tomb  of  St.  Brieuc  having 
become  a  shrine,  —  it  soon  began  to  draw 
throngs  from  all  parts,  and  the  importance  of 
the  city  which  grew  up  around  the  memory  of 
the  missionary  was  soon  assured. 

The  cathedral  of  St.  Brieuc  was  begun  by 
St.  William  Pinchon  before  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  was  soon  finished. 

Its  exterior  presents  the  severe  and  austere, 
though  beautiful,  Gothic  of  its  time,  but  the 
accessories  of  its  interior  arrangements  show 
plainly  the  debasement  of  the  later  interpola- 
tions, although  there  are  some  really  excellent 
details  hidden  away  amid  a  profusion  of  medi- 
ocrities, notably  the  tomb  of  St.  William,  a 
fine  Way  of  the  Cross  by  a  local  sculptor,  and 
a  low,  hanging  gallery  at  the  base  of  the  choir, 
which  is  a  remarkably  beautiful  and  effective 
adjunct  to  a  great  church.  The  exterior  is 
more  impressive,  though  its  two  principal  door- 
ways have  been  badly  restored  or  rebuilt  at 


The  Cotes  du  Nord 265 

some  time  since  the  completion  of  the  edifice. 
The  great,  gaunt,  donjon-like  towers  are  the 
chief  features  of  beauty  and  distinction,  and 
tell  the  story  of  the  whole  fabric  in  quite  an  un- 
assailable manner. 

At  the  town  hall  is  a  museum  which  has  some 
good  modern  art  works,  including  a  fragment 
of  Rodin's  Portes  de  l'Enfer  and  some  notable 
paintings  of  Breton  subjects. 

In  the  Rue  St.  Jacques  and  the  Rue  Fardel 
are  many  old  houses,  one  of  the  most  notable 
being  the  hotel  of  the  Dukes  of  Brittany,  begun 
in  1572  by  Yvon  Collou.  James  II.  of  England 
lodged  here  when  he  came  to  St.  Brieuc  in  1689. 

The  carved  and  decorated  fronts  of  these  old 
wooden  houses  lend  a  quaintness  and  charm  to 
the  streets  of  St.  Brieuc,  in  strong  contrast  to 
the  modernity  of  its  hotels  and  cafes.  There 
is  considerable  and  varied  local  industry  at  St. 
Brieuc,  and  this  gives  the  city  some  importance 
as  a  manufacturing  centre,  but  the  chief  events 
of  its  commercial  life  are  the  great  fairs  held 
in  July  and  September,  the  latter  founded  in 
the  fifteenth  century  by  Marguerite  of  Clisson. 

The  environs  of  St.  Brieuc  are  charmingly 
diversified,  from  the  wide  open  stretches  of 
farming  country  at  the  south  to  the  wastes  of 


266  Rambles  in  Brittany 

rock  and  sand  flanking  the  great  Bay  of  St. 
Brieuc. 

Le  Legue  is  the  port  of  St.  Brieuc,  and  the 
coastwise  traffic  is  considerable.  The  quays 
and  docks,  ship-houses  and  careening  wharfs 
lend  a  novel  and  interesting  aspect  to  a  back- 
ground of  thickly  wooded  river-banks.  The 
seaward  entrance  of  the  channel  is  protected 
by  a  fifth-class  light.  The  port  is  the  first  in 
rank  in  the  Cotes  du  Nord  for  the  fitting  out 
of  the  Newfoundland  and  Iceland  fishing- 
boats. 

The  Tower  of  Cesson,  three  kilometres  or 
more  from  St.  Brieuc,  is  a  simple  circular 
tower,  surrounded  by  a  double  protecting  fosse 
cut  perpendicularly  into  the  rock.  The  walls 
are  quite  twelve  feet  in  thickness  on  the  lower 
of  its  four  floors.  It  was  built  by  Duke 
Jean  IV.  in  1395,  and,  after  much  strife  and 
bloodshed,  extending  over  two  centuries,  was 
laid  in  ruins  by  Henry  IV.  in  1598. 

On  the  shores  of  the  Bay  of  St.  Brieuc  are 
innumerable  little  beaches  which  are  healthful 
breathing-spots  for  large  numbers  of  Parisian 
folk,  who  come  thither  between  June  and  Sep- 
tember of  each  year. 

These  are  not  exactly  riotous  resorts  of  fash- 
ion, but  still  there  are  some  evidences  of  the 


The  Cotes  du  Nord 


267 


distractions  of  the  world  that  make  most  of 
them  appear  as  little  parochial  Parises.  There 
are  two  spots  on  the  western  shore  of  the  bay 
to  which  this  does  not  apply,  however,  Etables 
and  Binic. 

Binic,  a  small  fishing  port  of  Brittany,  has 
all  the  attractions  of  an  unworldly  seaside  vil- 
lage,  for   it   is   not   much   more   even   to-day. 


Binic 


After  Binic,  Etables,  and  after  Etables,  Binic. 
Each  is  much  the  same  as  the  other.  Binic 
has  been  a  great-little  port  for  the  fitting  out 
of  ships  for  the  Newfoundland  fisheries  ever 
since  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  things  go  on  in  much  the  same  way  as  of 
old,  except  that  the  master  of  the  craft  now 
has  a  megaphone  and  a  patent  log  in  his  equip- 
ment, whereas  formerly  he  went  without  these 


268  Rambles  in  Brittany 

refinements  of  navigation.  To  the  Newfound- 
land fishermen  of  Binic  is  due  a  special  prep- 
aration of  the  codfish  known  as  benicasser,  of 
which  the  dictionaries  will  tell  one  nothing,  but 
which  is  simply  a  species  of  cured  codfish. 

The  high  altar  of  Binic  church  was  bought 
with  funds  contributed  as  a  result  of  the  Sun- 
day fishing  on  the  Newfoundland  banks.  It 
can,  therefore,  be  said  to  have  a  real  reason  for 
being,  and,  as  it  is  an  unusually  ornate  affair, 
one  infers  that  the  Sunday  haul  must  be  of 
goodly  proportions. 

From  St.  Brieuc  eastward,  until  one  actually 
comes  within  the  confines  of  that  delectable 
land  known  as  the  Emerald  Coast,  —  the  sum- 
mer rival  of  that  winter  paradise,  the  Blue 
Coast,  —  is  a  verdant  land  of  crops  and  cultures 
which  would  quite  change  the  opinions  of  any 
who  thought  Brittany  a  sterile,  rock-bound 
land,  where  nothing  could  grow  but  onions  and 
new  potatoes. 

Lamballe  is  a  sort  of  a  faint  shadow  of  St. 
Brieuc.  It  was  founded  in  feudal  times,  and 
from  1134  to  1420  was  the  capital  of  the  county 
of  Penthievre.  As  late  as  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, the  oldest  son  of  the  Due  de  Penthievre 
bore  the  title  of  Prince  of  Lamballe. 

The  town  is  divided  into  the  upper  and  lower 


The  Cotes  du  Nord 269 

towns.  In  the  latter  are  found  those  old  set- 
tlers of  ducal  times,  the  houses  of  wood  and 
stone  still  standing  to  delight  the  eye  of  the 
artist  and  to  arouse  the  wonder  of  the  general 
tourist. 

There  is  a  fine  Gothic  Church  of  Our  Lady, 
its  foundations  cut  in  the  very  rock  itself,  and 
bearing,  from  more  than  one  point  of  view, 
the  aspect  of  a  fortified  edifice,  which  has  a  bat- 
tlemented  roof  that  is  nothing  if  not  an  indi- 
cation that  the  church  of  Dol  was  a  truly  mili- 
tant edifice.  As  the  chapel  of  the  old  chateau, 
this  church  grew  up  from  a  foundation  of  St. 
William  Pinchon,  Bishop  of  St.  Brieuc  in  1220. 

St.  Martin's  is  the  church  of  an  ancient  pri- 
ory belonging  to  the  parent  house  of  Marmou- 
tier.  It  was  founded  in  1083  by  Geoffrey  I., 
Count  of  Lamballe.  Its  primitive  nave  shows 
a  remarkable  series  of  horseshoe  arches,  and 
in  every  way,  not  excepting  the  great  sixteenth- 
century  towers,  St.  Martin's  is  quite  the  most 
interesting  architectural  monument  of  Lam- 
balle. 

North  of  Lamballe  lies  Val  Andre.  A  charm- 
ing watering-place  much  frequented  by  fami- 
lies, is  the  way  the  all-powerful  Western  Kail- 
way  advertises  this  little  seaside  beach  and  its 
attractions,  with  the   added  few  lines  to  the 


270  Rambles  in  Brittany 

effect  that  there  is  a  large  hotel  with  a  casino, 
regattas,  nautical  celebrations,  concerts,  etc., 
which  are  supposed  to  amuse  the  fastidious 
summer  visitors. 

It  is  all  very  delightful,  particularly  as  the 
coast-line  near  by  is  charming  of  itself,  but 
Val  Andre,  with  all  its  attractions,  has  not  half 
the  charm  of  the  little  fishing  port  of  Binic  on 
the  opposite  shore  of  the  Bay  of  St.  Brieuc. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


THE    EMERALD    COAST 


The  Emerald  Coast  is  the  passion  chiefly  of 
those  who  come  to  live  during  the  three  sum- 
mer months  of  rustication,  but  the  sister  cities 
of  St.  Servan,  Parame  and  St.  Malo,  Dinard 
and  Dinan,  are  lovely  spots  and  attractive  of 
themselves,  were  one  forced  to  camp  out  on 
one  of  the  barren,  jagged  rocks  with  which  the 
coast  hereabouts  is  strewn,  instead  of  living 
at  the  Hotel  of  France  and  Chateaubriand, 
which  encloses  the  ancient  maison  of  Chateau- 
briand, at  St.  Malo.  Starting  thence,  one  ex- 
plores the  wonderful  country  round  about,  and 
nourishes  himself  and  makes  himself  comfort- 
able with  all  the  modern  refinements.  This 
hotel  is  about  the  only  modern  thing  in  St. 
Malo,  however,  for,  while  highly  interesting 
to  the  antiquary  or  to  the  student  of  architec- 
ture or  of  art,  it  is  commonly  thought  to  be  a 
vile,  dirty  hole,  with  a  few  shops  convenient 

271 


272  Rambles  in  Brittany 

for  the  inhabitants  of  the  more  aristocratic 
suburbs  of  Parame  and  St.  Servan. 

St.  Malo  is  a  curious  little  city,  with  its  ever 
apparent  past  not  in  the  least  disturbed  by  the 
steamboats  and  electric  trams,  which  bring  vis- 
itors to  the  base  of  its  ancient  fortifications 
and  gateways.  Among  its  chief  reminders  of 
the  past  are  its  proud  chateau,  redolent  of  the 
memory  of  the  beautiful  Duchess  Anne,  its  fine 
cathedral,  its  quaint  old  houses  and  narrow 
streets,  and  its  wonderful  encircling  ramparts. 

Not  only  is  St.  Malo  a  city  of  the  past,  but 
it  is  above  all,  to-day,  a  resort,  as  that  elastic 
term  is  known  which  covers  any  place  where 
tourists  congregate  for  pleasure. 

Kiosks,  coffee-rooms,  and  bathing-cabins 
have  taken  the  place  of  whatever  may  have 
gone  before,  and  to-day,  truly,  one  may  be  as 
comfortably  up  to  date  — if  there  is  any  real 
comfort  in  being  up  to  date  —  as  if  he  were 
in  Budapest,  Paris,  or  San  Francisco.  St. 
Malo  is  considerably  more  than  this ;  it  is  the 
actual,  if  not  the  geographical,  centre  of  the 
whole  Emerald  Coast. 

The  praises  of  the  Emerald  Coast  have  been 
sung  by  many  poets,  and  pictured  by  many 
painters.  Jean  Eichepin,  that  rare  vagabond, 
comes    frequently    for   his    inspiration   to    St. 


r 


The  Emerald  Coast  273 

Jacut-de-la-Mer,  and  in  his  "  Honest  Folk  " 
there  are  superb  descriptions  of  this  entrancing 
combination  of  sea  and  shore,  which  in  all 
France  is  not  elsewhere  equalled,  unless  it  be 
on  the  Riviera. 

The  Emerald  Coast  must  indeed  be  the  para- 
dise for  jaded  literary  workers,  when  work 
makes  its  inroads  on  their  holiday,  for  it  may 
enable  them  to  accomplish  as  much  as  Ferdi- 
nand Brunetiere  admitted  during  a  recent  stay 
at  Dinard-St.  Enogat: 

"  What  do  I  read?  "  said  he.     "  These: 

"  1.  The  240  pages  which  make  up  the  Re- 
vue des  deux  Mondes  every  fortnight. 

"  2.  The  manuscripts  which  may  become  fu- 
ture pages  of  the  Review,  and  even  some 
which  may  not. 

"  3.  Works  which  have  not  appeared  in  the 
Review,  whose  authors  I  may  find  it  worth 
while  to  know  and  cultivate. 

"  4.  Journals  in  which  the  Revieiv  is  inter- 
ested. 

"  5.  The  Official  Journal,  from  which  one 
may  always  pick  up  something. 

"  6.  The  other  papers. 

"  7.  Works  submitted  for  the  approval  of 
the  French  Academy. 

"  8.  Proof-sheets  of  my  own  works. 


274  Rambles  in  Brittany 


"  9.  The  books  necessary  for  the  preparation 
of  my  discourses,  lectures,  and  articles." 

The  puzzle  is  what  a  man  like  M.  Brunetiere 
will  find  to  do  in  the  next  world.  Probably  he 
will  go  about  to  all  the  celebrated  writers  to 
see  what  they  thought  of  his  criticisms  in  his 
dearly  loved  Review;  and  then  perhaps  he  will 
regret,  as  Herbert  Spencer  is  said  to  have  re- 
gretted, that  he  had  not  gone  fishing  oftener. 

The  charms  of  St.  Malo's  suburban  social 
colony  of  Parame,  such  as  they  are,  though  they 
differ  greatly  from  the  mere  attractions  of  na- 
ture,—  for  which  society  folk  really  care  for 
only  as  an  accessory  to  their  more  futile  pleas- 
ures,—  are  best  set  forth  in  the  following 
stanzas  of  Jehan  Valter : 

«  PARAMtf 

11  IDYLLE 

"  Quel  est  de  Biarritz  a  Calais 
Le  seul  bain  de  mer,  qui  jamais, 
Faute  de  baigneurs,  n'a  ch6me  ? 
C'est  Parame ! 

«  Oil  le  soleil  a  l'horizon 
Montre-t-il  en  chaque  saison 
Son  disque  toujours  enflamm.6  ? 
A  Parame ! 

«  Oil  le  froid  est-il  inconnu, 
Ou  peut-on  se  promener  nu 


The  Emerald  Coast  275 

Sans  avoir  peur  d'etre  enrhume"  ? 
A  Param6  ! 

"  Le  soir,  on  danse  au  Casino, 
Non  aux  sons  d'un  mauvais  piano, 
Mais  d'un  orchestre  renommS 
A  Paraine" ! 

"  Sur  la  plage  on  reve  d'ainour, 
La  nuit  aussi  bien  que  le  jour 
Que  de  baigneuses  out  aim6  I 
A  ParamS  ! 

"  Est-ce  l'air  qui  porte  a  la  peau  ; 
Est-ce  le  soleil,  est-ce  l'eau? 
Chacun  sort  du  bain  ranim6 
A  Par  am  6  I 

"  Et  c'est  un  miracle  constant, 
Le  plus  ch6tif,  en  un  instant, 
Est  en  athlete  transform^ 
A  Param6  ! 

"  Du  reste,  miracle  plus  fort, 
Jamais  personne  ici  n'est  mort, 
On  ne  connait  pas  d'inhume' 
A  Param6  ! 

"  A  vous  tous,  gandins  rabougris 
Qui  d6pe>issez  a  Paris, 
Venez  humer  l'air  embaume" 
De  Paraine"  ! 

"  Vous  ne  le  regretterez  pas  : 
On  y  fait  d'excellents  repas, 
Et  le  cidre  est  fort  estiine' 
A  Par  am  4  ! 


276  Rambles  in  Brittany 

"  Done,  sur  l'honneur,  je  vous  le  dis, 
A  d^faut  du  vrai  paradis, 
II  n'est  sur  terre,  en  r6sum6, 
Que  Parame  !  " 

That  is  about  the  sort  of  round  that  one  gets 
at  Parame,  with  motor-cars,  golf,  and  bridge 
parties  thrown  in,  but  a  wonderful  aspect  of 
nature  to  be  seen  at  every  turn,  and  it  is  per- 
haps small  wonder  that  the  little  summer  col- 
ony has  now  grown  to  huge  proportions. 

Americans  should  have  a  special  interest  in, 
and  a  fondness  for,  St.  Malo,  "  the  city  of  the 
corsairs." 

St.  Malo  is  the  chief  town  of  the  province 
of  Jacques  Cartier,  the  discoverer  of  Canada. 
"  It  is  a  city  of  great  men  and  the  chief  place 
of  the  Breton  middle  class/'  said  the  Abbe 
Jalobert  in  his  curious  work  on  St.  Malo  and 
St.  Servan. 

There  is  some  truth  in  calling  St.  Malo  the 
"  corsair  stronghold, ' '  for  it  was  the  cradle 
of  Mahe  de  la  Bourdonnais,  Duguay-Trouin, 
Surcouf,  and  their  followers,  all  "  sea-rovers  " 
if  they  were  not  something  more. 

To-day  St.  Malo's  "  sea-rovers  "  are  the 
sailors  of  the  Newfoundland  fishing-fleet,  the 
humble   "  terre-neuvas,"   as   they   are  known, 


The  Emerald  Coast  277 

who  go  in  large  numbers  to  fish  for  cod  on  the 
Grand  Banks  of  Newfoundland. 

"  I's  sont  partis  de  Saint-Malo, 
Fs  sont  partis  de  Saint-Malo, 
Tous  ben  portants,  vaillants  et  biaux. 
In*  troun'  derin  tra  lonlaire  1 
In'  troun'  denn'  tra  lonla  1 " 

sings  Yann  Nibor  in  his  "  Sea  Songs  and  Sto- 
ries." 

The  city's  older  reputation  as  the  city  of  the 
corsairs  gave  quite  a  different  interpretation, 
however : 

"LA    CITE*    DES    CORSAIRE8 

"  Si  dans  son  aire,  aujourd'hui  tombe, 
Elle  ouit  de  rudes  chansons ! 
Dont  le  souvenir  donne  au  monde 
Des  frissons. 

"  La  gothique  fleche  de  pierre 
De  son  clocher  audacieux 
S'elance  comme  un  rapiere 
Vers  les  cieux." 

—  Dabouchet. 

Duguay-Trouin  is  an  almost  mythical  char- 
acter, but  many  of  his  legendary  exploits  sound 
plausible.  He  took  an  English  ship  mounting 
forty  guns  when  he  owned  to  but  sixteen  years, 
and  in  a  following  campaign  —  practically  on 
his  own  account  it  would  seem  —  he  captured 


278  Rambles  in  Brittany 

two  vessels  of  war  and  twelve  merchant-ships 
from  nnder  the  guns  of  a  British  squadron. 
This,  at  least,  is  the  French  version,  and  since 
all  of  us,  in  our  agile  days,  love  a  daring  hero, 
—  even  if  he  be  a  bloodthirsty  one,  —  it  seems 
a  pity  to  probe  the  assertion  too  deeply. 

Such  a  man  as  Duguay-Trouin  was,  of  course, 
popular,  and  his  sailors  sang  his  praises  in 
the  street  in  lines  which  came  to  be  taken  up 
by  the  "  stay-at-homes  ' '  and  incorporated  into 
a  kind  of  folk-lore.  Indeed,  gentle  mothers 
sang  their  infants  to  sleep  with  them,  much  as 
did  old  Mother  Goose  of  the  nursery  rhymes: 

"  Monsieur  Duguay  t'envoye" 
Un  tambour  de  l'Achille 
Pour  demander  a  ces  braves  guerriers 
S'ils  veulent  capituler. 

"  Les  dames  du  chateau 
S'sont  mis  a  la  feneire, 
Monsieur  Duguay  apaisez  vos  canons, 
Avec  vous  je  composerez." 

Not  always  does  the  stranger  to  St.  Malo 
hear  exactly  this  offhand,  but  invariably  he  is 
met  with  a  singsong  of  sailors'  chanteys  which 
at  once  call  up  memories  of  seafarers  of  other 
days. 

One  enters  St.  Malo,  whether  by  boat  or 
train,  through  the  city  walls.     The  boat  lands 


The  Emerald  Coast  279 

you  directly  under  the  frowning  ramparts,  and 
a  worthy  porter  will  take  your  portmanteau 
and  carry  it  twenty  steps  to  the  door  of  your 
hotel,  just  within  the  gateway  of  the  city  — 
and  charge  you  twenty  sous  for  the  job.  "  A 
franc,  really,"  the  man  with  the  brass  badge 
tied  on  his  right  arm  will  reply  to  your  query 
as  to  whether  you  have  heard  aright. 

"  Twenty  cents  for  twenty  steps  is  a  little 
high,"  says  the  hostess  of  your  hotel,  but  it 
is  the  tariff  from  outside. 

St.  Malo  is  still  a  walled  city,  much  as  it  was 
in  the  days  when  Francis  I.,  in  1518,  and 
Charles  IX.,  in  1570,  held  court  here. 

Charles  IX.,  his  mother  Catharine,  and  his 
sister  Margaret  spent  a  part  of  the  month  of 
May  here  in  this  city  by  the  sea.  The  Malou- 
ins  gave  the  court  a  spectacle  of  an  imitation 
naval  combat,  in  which  a  galleon  was  sunk; 
too  realistically,  one  thinks,  for  its  occupants 
were  drowned. 

At  one  time,  it  is  said  by  the  chronicles,  St. 
Malo  was  guarded  by  fierce  mastiffs,  the  de- 
scendants, it  is  to  be  presumed,  of  the  Gallic 
dogs  of  war.  These  municipal  watch-dogs  were 
suppressed  in  1770,  because  of  their  having 
bitten  the  "  calves  of  gentlemen."  Presuma- 
bly there  was  a  complaint  of  some  sort,  but 


280  Rambles  in  Brittany 

the  only  record  of  the  incident  is  one  in  verse 
sung  by  Desaugiers  as  follows : 

"  Bon  voyage, 
Cher  du  Mollet, 
A  Saint-Malo  d6barquez  sans  naufrage, 
Et  revenez  si  ce  pays  vous  plait." 

The  disappearance  of  the  watch-dogs  in  1770 
made  necessary  the  adoption  of  a  new  coat  of 
arms  for  the  town,  when  the  blazoning  of  ar- 
gent, a  dog  gules,  gave  way  to  a  "  portcullis 
surmounted  by  an  ermine  passant/' 

One  has  heard  before  now  the  phrase,  "  I 
like  St.  Malo  in  spite  of  its  smell,"  and,  in 
spite  of  the  truth  of  it,  —  and  there  is  a  very 
apparent  justification  of  the  word,  —  the  old 
city  is  one  of  the  most  lovable  in  all  Brittany. 

The  House  of  Duguay-Trouin  at  St.  Malo  is 
one  of  its  chief  romantic  shrines  before  which 
strangers  are  wont  to  linger.  It  is  simply  an 
old  wooden-fronted  house,  sombre  and  austere 
in  its  upper  stories,  but  resplendent  in  white 
paint  below.  A  shoe-shop  and  a  coffee-room 
occupy  the  lower  floor,  and  if  one  would  con- 
jure up  the  days  of  the  past,  when  pirates  bold 
discussed  their  venturesome  plans  in  the  very 
same  room,  let  him  enter  and  drink  his  after- 
dinner  coffee  by  the  pale  light  of  a  guttering 


The  Emerald  Coast 


281 


-»--<- 


House  of  Duguay-Trouin,  St.  Malo 


candle  in  this  old  abode  of  romance.  There 
is  nothing  of  luxury  about  it;  in  fact,  most 
worshippers  are  content  to  bow  before  the 
shrine  from  without;   but  to  awaken  the  live- 


282  Rambles  in  Brittany 

liest  emotions,  one  must  really  enter  and  see 
it  from  the  inside. 

St.  Malo,  besides  its  stock  sights  of  romance 
and  history  situated  within  the  city  itself,  has 
a  literary  shrine  of  the  first  rank  in  the  island 
of  Grand  Be  just  offshore.  Here  is  the  tomb 
of  Chateaubriand,  ambassador,  minister,  jour- 
nalist, and  author.  One  need  not  inscribe  the 
dates  and  titles  of  his  works  here ;  it  is  enough 
to  mention  his  name.  Suffice  to  recall  that,  as 
a  conclusion  to  his  labours,  he  wrote  the  "  Me- 
moires  d 'Outre-Tomb, ' '  which,  like  the  simple, 
rough-hewn  cross  which  crowns  the  summit  of 
Grand  Be,  is  a  fitting  monument  to  the  genius 
of  the  man  whose  theories,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
have  now  become  somewhat  out  of  date. 

Chateaubriand's  verses  on  his  native  land 
give  an  ample  proof  of  his  love  for  her,  and, 
moreover,  so  well  express  the  regard  which 
nearly  every  one  has  for  the  Emerald  Coast, 
that  it  is  certainly  pardonable  to  quote  them 
here : 

"MON   PAYS 

"  Combien  j'ai  douce  souvenance 
Du  joli  lieu  de  ma  naissauce  ! 
Ma  soeur,  qu'ils  6taient  beaux,  les  jours 

De  France  ! 
O  mon  pays,  sois  mes  amours, 

Toujours  ' 


The  Emerald  Coast  283 

"  Te  souvient-il  que  notre  mere, 
Au  foyer  de  uotre  chaumiere, 
Nous  pressait  sur  son  cceur  joyeux, 

Ma  chere, 
Et  nous  baisions  ses  blancs  cheveux 

Tous  deux  ? 

"  Ma  so3ur,  te  souvient-il  encore 
Du  chateau  que  baignait  la  Dore  ? 
Et  de  cette  tant  vieille  tour 

Du  Maure, 
Ou  l'airain  sonnait  le  retour 

Du  jour  ? 

"  Te  souvient-il  du  lac  tranquille 
Qu'effleurait  l'hirondelle  agile, 
Du  vent  qui  courbait  le  roseau 

Mobile, 
Et  du  soleil  couchant  sur  l'eau, 

Si  beau? 

"  Oh  !  qui  me  rendra  mon  Helene, 
Et  ma  montagne  et  le  grand  chene  ? 
Leur  souvenir  fait  tous  les  jours 

Ma  peine  : 
Mon  pays  sera  mes  amours 

Toujours ! " 

St.  Servan,  like  St.  Malo,  is  steeped  in  an- 
tiquity; practically  they  form  one  town,  al- 
though separated  by  the  narrow  strait  which 
forms  an  entrance  to  the  outer  harbour  of  St. 
Malo.  St.  Servan  registers  over  a  hundred 
St.  Malo  craft  engaged  in  fishing  and  in  the 
coast  trade.    As  the  ancient  Gallo-Roman  town 


284  Rambles  in  Brittany 

of  Alethum,  St.  Servan,  from  very  early  times 
an  archbishopric,  was  ravaged  by  barbarians 
and  by  floods  and  had  a  varied  career,  bnt  at 
last  the  steady  growth  of  the  comparatively 
modern  St.  Servan  made  it  a  prosperous  town 
of  perhaps  twelve  thousand  sonls. 

The  chief  of  St.  Servan 's  architectural  monu- 
ments is  the  great  Tower  of  Solidor,  built  far 
out  upon  the  rocks  at  the  mouth  of  the  Ranee. 
It  was  built  in  1384  by  Duke  John  IV.,  at  the 
epoch  when  he  was  combating  the  pretensions 
of  Josselin  of  Rohan,  Bishop  of  St.  Malo,  for 
the  sovereignty  of  the  town. 

It  is  a  great  triangular  hold  with  a  cylindri- 
cal tower  at  each  corner.  Within  is  a  stone 
staircase  winding  spirally  upward  and  giving 
access  to  various  vaulted  chambers.  It  could 
oppose  no  great  strength  to  modern  artillery, 
and  even  in  the  olden  time  could  not  have  been 
very  secure,  could  the  besiegers  but  get  to  the 
base  of  its  walls.  At  the  same  time,  from  its 
isolated  position,  it  served  admirably  as  an  out- 
post which  at  least  offered  a  superior  vantage 
against  an  attacking  force,  and  it  is  unlikely 
that  it  could  have  been  taken  except  by  siege 
or  by  the  fall  of  the  supporting  city  at  its  back. 

The  Chapel  St.  Peter  of  Aleth  has  built  into 
its  fabric  some  fragments  of  the  ancient  ninth 


Tower  of  So  lido?',  St.  Servan 


The  Emerald  Coast 


285 


and    tenth    century    cathedral    of    the    same 
name. 

There  are  many  remains  of  the  old  city  walls, 


d-j" 


Plans  of  the   Tower  of  Solidor 

and  St.  Servan  ranks  with  St.  Malo  as  a  vivid 
reminder  of  other  days. 

There  is  one  popular  sight  of  Brittany  near 
St.  Malo,  which  cannot  be  ignored,  —  the  rock- 


286  Rambles  in  Brittany 

carved  tomb  of  St.  Budoc.  This  holy  man  lived 
in  the  days  when  Celtic  was  a  living  tongue, 
and  Irish,  Scots,  Welshmen,  and  Bretons,  one 
and  all,  used  the  same  speech. 

Many  a  year  has  passed,  and  St.  Budoc  has 
been  all  but  forgotten.  Besides  his  religious 
fervour,  the  memory  of  which  exists  but 
vaguely,  there  is  left  as  a  reminder  of  his  ex- 
istence his  tomb  and  a  prophecy  which  has  come 
down  by  word  of  mouth  through  the  natives. 

To-day  there  is  a  modern  hermit  who  lives 
near  the  tomb  of  the  saint,  and  carves  a  sort  of 
symbolical  prophecy  in  stone  for  his  own 
amusement  and  the  marvel  of  tourists. 

It  is  rather  a  cheap  sort  of  a  shrine,  and  one 
that  is  wholly  visionary  so  far  as  its  real  sig- 
nificance goes,  but  it  is  a  very  satisfying  one 
to  most  who  view  it,  like  the  ' '  Blarney  Stone  ' ' 
and  St.  Patrick's  grave,  which  are  frauds  of  the 
first  water. 

One  comes  to  Rotheneuf  —  a  little  Breton 
coast  village  —  by  road,  tramway,  or  carriage 
from  Parame,  if  he  comes  at  all.  Here  just 
beyond  the  village  itself  the  cliffs  are  curi- 
ously carved  into  all  manner  of  human  shapes, 
—  the  work  of  the  aforesaid  hermit,  who,  al- 
though he  be  not  a  young  man,  certainly  is  not 
so  old  as  to  have  carved  all  the  stones  which 


The  Emerald  Coast 287 

here  exist;  at  least  they  look  much  older, 
though  the  stress  of  weather  may  account  for 
that. 

Evidently  there  is  a  devotion  for  St.  Budoc, 
and  belief  in  his  prophecy  of  the  downfall  of 
France  is  one  day  or  another  to  become  true. 
The  old  monk  or  priest  —  for  in  reality  this 
hermit  of  to-day  is  a  churchman  —  is  evidently 
the  chief  disciple  of  the  cult,  for  he  perpetuates 
his  version  of  this  long-lost  legend  in  his  mod- 
ern carvings. 

The  text  of  this  old  prophecy  was  vague  and 
visionary,  but  enough  has  come  down  to  place 
definitely  the  fact  that  a  Napoleon  was  to  rise 
and  fall  in  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, and  that  the  Church  was  to  be  parted 
from  its  children,  —  referring  presumably  to 
the  Concordat  of  1802. 

No  version  of  the  prophecy  exists  in  Celtic 
literature,  but  the  monk  Olivarius  published, 
in  Luxembourg  in  1544,  a  version  which  was 
supposed  to  have  been  handed  down  from  the 
old  Celtic  monk  himself.  Since  that  time  con- 
temporary literature  has  had  various  refer- 
ences thereto,  the  last  apparently  in  1904,  when 
one  appeared  in  Gaston  Medy's  "  Echo  of  the 
Marvellous. ' ' 

This   last  version,   or   promulgation,   of  the 


288  Rambles  in  Brittany 


Celt's  prophecy  carries  us  even  into  the  future, 
432  moons  from  the  foundation  of  the  present 
French  republic,  i.  e.  thirty-six  years,  which 
would  be  in  1906.  "  Woe  to  thee,  great  city," 
is  a  phrase  which  is  supposed  to  refer  to  the 
fall  of  Paris;  whether  as  Rome  fell,  from  an 
excess  of  glory,  or  into  the  hands  of  the  in- 
vader, is  not  stated.  At  any  rate,  the  event  is 
to  come  to  pass  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1906,  432 
moons  from  the  beginning  of  the  great  Repub- 
lique  Francaise.     Let  all  who  will  be  mindful. 

On  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Ranee  from  St. 
Malo  is  Dinard-St.  Enogat,  occupying  a  mag- 
nificent site  known  in  part  as  the  Bee  de  la 
Valle.  The  country-houses  of  Dinard  are  fa- 
mous, though  they  are  built  in  that  vague  archi- 
tectural style  accepted  the  world  over  as  being 
something  appropriate  to  a  species  of  residence 
less  sumptuous  than  a  palace  or  a  chateau. 

It  is  a  pity  that  the  word  is  not  better  under- 
stood by  the  people,  and  a  pity,  too,  that  most 
villas  in  France  —  and  in  England,  for  that 
matter  —  are  abominable,  queer  chicken-coops, 
with  names  like  Villa  Napoli,  Villa  Saint  Ger- 
main, Villa  la  Belle-Issue,  Villa  Belle-Rive,  and 
Villa  Bric-a-Brac.  All  these  are  found  at 
Dinard,  and  more,  and,  as  may  be  imagined, 
the  summer  life  of  this  town  of  country-houses 


The  Emerald  Coast 289 

is  in  many  respects  as  gay  and  bizarre  as  the 
architecture  and  names  of  the  villas  themselves. 

The  aspect  of  the  waterside  of  the  charming 
little  place  —  for  Dinard  is  charming,  in  spite 
of  it  all  —  belies  these  strictures  somewhat, 
with  the  warm  glow  of  the  sinking  sun  gilding 
the  roof-tops,  as  the  emerald  waters  of  the 
great  bay  ebb  and  flow  beneath  their  feet. 

Dinard  has  another  and  more  interesting  side 
in  an  admirable  architectural  monument,  —  the 
ruins  of  an  ancient  priory,  founded  in  1324 
by  Olivier  and  Geoffroy  de  Montfort.  The  fine 
Gothic  chapel  is  now  ruined  and  moss-grown, 
but  there  are  still  to  be  seen  the  tombs  of  the 
Chevaliers  de  Montfort,  who  were  mighty  chief- 
tains in  their  day.  Within  the  grounds  also 
is  a  curious  statue  of  the  Virgin  placed  beneath 
the  enormous  fig-tree. 

The  beach  is  of  course  the  great  attraction 
of  the  summer  resident,  when  he  is  not  drinking 
cool  drinks  at  the  casino  or  eating  at  the  cafe 
restaurant  on  the  terrace. 

St.  Enogat,  which  is  usually  linked  with  the 
mention  of  Dinard  by  a  hyphen,  has  much  the 
same  aspect  as  its  partner,  —  villas,  Swiss 
chalets,  and  cottages.  St.  E]nogat  bears  the 
name  of  one  of  the  first  bishops  of  Aleth,  and 
its  proximity  to  the  great  cliffs  fringing  the 


290 Rambles  in  Brittany 

coast,  and  the  high  rocks  just  offshore,  make 
its  location  even  more  beautiful  than  that  of 
Dinard  itself.  Westward  of  St.  Enogat  are  St. 
Jacut,  St.  Cast,  and  Cap  Frehel,  and  nearer  St. 
Lunaire  and  St.  Briac. 

All  are  very  popular  resorts  during  the  sum- 
mer months,  and  are  attractive  spots  —  or 
would  be  but  that  accommodation  in  all  is  lim- 
ited, and  what  there  is  is  sadly  overcrowded 
for  the  three  fine  months  of  the  year. 

St.  Lunaire  has  an  ancient  eleventh-century 
church,  placing  it  somewhat  on  the  plane  of 
an  artistic  shrine.  Practically,  the  edifice  is 
abandoned  to-day,  but  it  contains  the  tomb  of 
St.  Lunaire,  a  work  of  the  thirteenth  or  four- 
teenth century,  made  up  of  some  fragmentary 
sculptures  thought  to  have  come  from  the  prim- 
itive church. 

St.  Briac  has  much  the  same  characteristics, 
though  of  itself  it  counts  an  all-the-year-round 
population  of  two  thousand  or  more  souls. 

It  owes  its  name  to  a  Celtic  hermit-saint,  who 
came  from  Ireland  in  the  early  days  of  the 
evangelizing  missions  of  the  Irish  monks,  and 
has  the  ruined  Chateau  of  Pontbriant  for  an 
attraction.  It  has  not  the  misfortune  to  have 
become  as  fashionable  as  Dinard-St.  Enogat, 
and  is  therefore  the  more  enjoyable.     Truly 


The  Emerald  Coast 291 

is  it  a  delightful  little  corner  of  the  world, 
where  those  who  are  town-weary  may  take  their 
ease  and  ruminate  on  the  futility  of  attempting 
to  put  order  into  the  universe. 

This  whole  region  is  a  wonderful  galaxy  of 
natural  beauties,  to  be  discovered  and  appre- 
ciated only  by  oneself.  They  shall  be  nameless 
here  that  that  pleasure  may  not  be  curtailed. 

The  route  to  Dinan  from  St.  Malo  by  the 
tidal  river  Eance  is  one  of  those  enjoyable 
journeys  which  impress  the  mind  in  an  indeli- 
ble fashion.  It  is  a  matter  of  twenty-four  kilo- 
metres as  the  crow  flies,  and  about  the  same 
by  the  water  route  of  the  fishes. 

Dinan  is  a  real  mediaeval  town,  with  a  wall 
or  rampart  something  over  a  mile  in  length.  It 
is  a  most  interesting  centre  for  the  charming 
country  round  about,  and  is  in  itself  a  typical 
feudal  relic  of  the  days  when  cities  were  en- 
closed by  walls  and  only  entered  through  for- 
tified gates. 

Originally  the  thirteenth-century  ramparts 
were  defended  by  twenty-four  towers,  of  which 
a  dozen,  perhaps,  still  remain.  Three  great 
gateways,  the  gates  of  Jerzual,  of  St.  Malo, 
and  St.  Louis,  still  remain  in  all  their  fortified 
splendour;  the  fourth,  the  Porte  de  Brest,  has 
been  demolished. 


292 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


The   Valley  of  the  Ranee 


The  Emerald  Coast 


293 


The  old  streets  of  the  mediaeval  city  still  ex- 
ist, too,  much  in  the  same  state  as  they  were 
in  mediaeval  times. 

The  porches  or  covered  passages  are  a  fea- 
ture of  many  of  the  old-time  houses,  and  are 
most  quaint  and  artistic. 

The  church  of  St.  Malo 
dates  from  1490,  and  that 
of  St.  Sauveur  from  the 
twelfth  to  the  fifteenth 
century.  The  chief  his- 
torical figure  of  Dinan's 
past  was  Bertrand  Du- 
guesclin,  the  young 
Breton  noble  who  so  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  the 
fourteenth  century  on  the 
side  of  France  against  the 
English. 

He   was  born   at   Motte-  Duguesclin,  from  his   statue 

■u^^^^r,        ^  t\  •  *n  ^ie  Abbey  of  St.  Denis. 

Broons,     near     D  1  n  a  n, 

toward  1320.    "  He  had  a  sunburned  face,  with 

a  snub  nose,  and  green  eyes,  an  awkward  gait, 

and  a  rough  and  untractable  nature,"  one  reads 

in  the  words  of  Simeon  Luce;    and  from  the 

existing  portraits  of  him,  all  this  is  true. 

He  was  a  warrior,  from  his  earliest  days,  of 

the  most  thoroughgoing  type.    He  was  the  sort 


294  Rambles  in  Brittany 

of  small  boy  whom  mothers  find  looking  for 
trouble.  He  would  lead  on  the  village  lads  to 
fight,  and,  when  victory  had  all  but  appeared, 
on  one  side  or  the  other,  he  would  throw  him- 
self into  the  breach  to  start  the  fight  again,  just 
like  a  wolf,  after  which  he  would  lead  both  sides 
to  a  tavern  to  drink,  and  heal  old  sores. 

On  the  ninth  of  July,  1812,  the  heart  of  the 
redoubtable  Duguesclin  was  brought  to  Dinan 
and  placed  in  the  north  transept  of  the  Church 
of  St.  Sauveur  amid  an  imposing  assemblage. 

The  sarcophagus  bears  the  following  inscrip- 
tion, which  shows  that  the  warrior  who  really 
was  responsible  for  the  banishment  of  the  Eng- 
lish from  France  "  ranked  in  company  with 
kings, "  as  his  French  admirers  put  it. 

GY  :  GIST   :  LE    CUEUR  :  DE 

MESSIRE  :  BERTRAN  :  DU    GUEAQUI 

EN  :  SON    VIVAT    CONETITABLE    DE 

FRACE   :  QUI   :  TRESPAS8A  :  LE    XIII6 

JOUR   :  DE  :  JULLET  :  L'AN   :  MIL    III« 

nil »  :  dont  :  son  :  corps  :  repos 

AVECQUES  :  CEULX   :  DES    :  ROIS 
A    SAINCT  :  DENIS    EN    FRANCE. 

The  great  clock-tower,  a  fine  fifteenth-century 
building  with  a  massive  spire,  is  found  in  the 
Rue  de  1  'Horloge.  It  was  given  to  the  town  by 
Anne  of  Brittany  in  1507. 


The  Emerald  Coast 


295 


The  Chateau  of  Dinan  was  built  by  the  Bre- 
ton dukes  (1382-87).  Its  history  was  varied 
and  vivid,  as  one  reads  in  the  pages  of  M.  Gaul- 
tier  de  Mottay. 


T^eyde.  Chcuts  e  e  of  JJo  njon  -JJ/NA  hi 


Oliver  Clisson,  Gilles  of  Brittany,  Viscount 
Rohan,  Duchess  Anne,  Laurent  Hamon,  and 
many  others  whose  names  are  famous  in  the 
history  of  Brittany  have  walked  through  these 
halls,  of  which  only  the  hold  to-day  remains 
as  a  tourist  "  sight.' ' 


296  Rambles  in  Brittany 

The  Tower  of  Coetquen,  one  of  the  ancient 
towers  of  the  city  wall,  forms  practically  a  part 
of  the  old  castle,  but  the  keep,  or  the  Queen 
Anne's  Tower,  a  hundred  or  more  feet  in  height 
and  of  four  stories,  —  the  topmost  reached  by 
a  spiral  stairway  of  148  steps,  —  is  the  most 
distinct  feature  still  standing. 

In  the  interior  are  a  number  of  obscure  cells 
which  were,  and  indeed  are  still,  terrible  dun- 
geons. The  guard-room  is  on  the  second  floor, 
with  also  a  little  room,  which  served  as  an  ora- 
tory for  the  Duchess  Anne.  The  third  floor  is 
occupied  by  the  Constable's  Hall,  and  the 
fourth  by  a  Hall  of  Arms,  a  fine  vaulted  apart- 
ment. 

To-day  the  castle  is  a  prison,  and  the  rank 
and  file  of  visitors  may  not  enter  this  fine  medi- 
aeval monument,  but,  if  one  have  a  proper  ap- 
preciation of  the  architectural  delights  of  a 
mediaeval  fortress,  and  be  diplomatic  in  his 
request,  very  likely  his  wish  to  enter  will  be 
gratified. 

One  of  the  principal  industries  of  Dinan  is 
the  fabrication  of  sail-cloth.  It  is  an  admirably 
placed  industry,  with  its  market  close  at  hand, 
and  most  of  the  Breton  and  Norman  fishing- 
boats  of  these  parts  sport  a  full  suit  of  Dinan 
manufacture. 


The  Emerald  Coast  297 


In  the  environs  of  Dinan  are  innumerable 
charming  excursions  mostly  neglected.  One 
such  must  surely  be  included  in  one's  itinerary, 
—  a  visit  to  the  old  Priory  of  Lehon,  a  depend- 
ency of  the  Abbey  of  Marmoutier. 

It  was  founded  in  850  by  Nominoe,  in  hon- 
our of  St.  Magloire,  whose  relics  were  brought 
from  the  Isle  of  Jersey  to  Dinan.  The  ruins, 
as  seen  to-day,  are  most  ample  and  beautiful, 
showing  the  best  of  thirteenth-century  Gothic. 

Besides  this,  Lehon  has  the  picturesque  ruins 
of  a  twelfth  and  thirteenth  century  castle 
perched  high  upon  the  summit  of  an  eminence 
overlooking  the  headwaters  of  the  Ranee.  The 
castle  came  to  the  hands  of  the  Dukes  of  Brit- 
tany; Charles  of  Blois  stayed  there  in  1356 
after  his  return  from  England,  and  Raoul  Coet- 
quen  was  made  captain  in  1402,  since  which 
time  its  history  has  been  lost  or  hidden  in  the 
pages  of  the  untranslated  chroniclers. 

In  1624  the  priory  monks  robbed  the  castle 
for  material  with  which  to  construct  their  beau- 
tiful cloister,  but  enough  remains  to-day,  hid- 
den away  among  a  mass  of  ivy  and  lichen- 
grown  ruins,  to  indicate  its  former  prominence. 

Altogether  Lehon  and  its  two  romantic  mem- 
ories of  other  days  is  a  u  sight  "  not  to  be 
missed. 


298  Rambles  in  Brittany 

An  old  custom  formerly  prevailed  here  at 
Pentecost,  when  the  newly  married  were  sup- 
posed to  present  themselves  before  the  prior 
of  the  monastery  for  a  sort  of  last  blessing, 
as  it  would  seem. 

They  sang  the  following  refrain,  and  went 
back  to  their  home,  or  to  the  festival  in  the 
neighbouring  village,  with  never  a  care  beyond 
to-day : 

"  Si  je  suis  marine  vous  le  savez  bien ; 
Si  je  suis  mal  a  l'aise  vous  n'en  savez  rien. 
Ma  chanson  est  dite,  je  ne  vous  dois  plus  rien." 

This  seems  a  philosophical  way  of  looking 
at  things,  and  shows  an  easy  conscience  and 
open  mind  on  the  part  of  all  concerned. 

Seated  upon  the  western  shore  of  the  great 
Bay  of  Mont  St.  Michel  is  Cancale,  whence 
come  the  oysters.  The  six  thousand  inhabitants 
of  this  quaintly  rock-environed  place  have  a 
physiognomy  so  distinctly  their  own  as  to  mark 
them  for  a  type.  Feyen-Perrin  and  his  brother 
have  painted  the  Cancale  people  in  a  manner 
never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who  are  familiar 
with  their  work. 

Anciently  Cancale  was  known  as  Cancaven, 
and  is  a  survival  among  neighbouring  settle- 
ments which  have  succumbed  to  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  ocean. 


The  Emerald  Coast 299 

In  1032,  it  became  a  dependency  of  the  Abbey 
of  Mont  St.  Michel.  In  1758,  it  was  pillaged 
by  the  English  under  the  Duke  of  Marlborough, 
and  the  English  fleet  again  bombarded  it  in 
1779. 

La  Houle  is  the  real  port  of  Cancale,  and 
the  centre  for  the  oyster  industry.  At  low  tide 
the  boats  of  the  fishers  are  drawn  up  on  the 
yellow  sands,  there  to  remain  until  the  return 
of  the  tide.  At  low  tide  all  the  village  comes 
from  the  town  above  and  repairs  to  the  oyster- 
beds.  The  general  outgoing,  which  seems  to 
the  stranger  the  emigration  of  the  whole  popu- 
lation, has  been  described  by  a  Frenchman  as: 
"  Un  defile,  interminable,  bruyant,  cadence,  le 
bruit  des  pas  coupe  de  paroles  et  de  vires." 

This  great  outpouring  continues  until  quite 
all  the  available  help  of  the  female  persuasion 
has  departed,  leaving  practically  only  the  old 
and  infirm  to  guard  the  houses  and  shops  until 
the  return  of  the  tide. 

Cancale  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  oyster- 
rearing  districts  of  the  world,  but,  if  the  tour- 
ist arrive  there  during  the  summer  months 
which  lack  the  "  B,"  he  will  eat  not  of  them; 
the  natives  look  upon  it  as  downright  crime 
even  to  think  of  serving  them  to  you;  the  mus- 
sel will  have  to  be  your  substitute.    It  is  always 


300  Rambles  in  Brittany 

in  season,  though  it  looks  about  as  perishable 
in  hot  weather  as  the  oyster,  and  probably  is 
so.  Tradition  and  superstition  account  for  the 
upholding  of  many  institutions  in  this  world, 
and  the  oyster  season  appears  to  be  one  of 
them. 

The  celebrated  Rocks  of  Cancale  lie  just  be- 
low the  town,  —  a  black  mass  of  rocks,  about 
which  the  waves  of  the  ocean  fawn  and  growl 
like  a  parcel  of  wolves. 

The  Point  of  Grouin  is  simply  an  exaggera- 
tion of  the  same  rocky  formation  as  that  of 
Cancale,  and  the  same  which  unrolls  itself  all 
around  the  coast  up  to  Cape  Frehel.  To  the 
west  is  the  Bay  of  St.  Malo,  and  to  the  east 
the  Bay  of  Mont  St.  Michel. 

Michelet  wrote  of  this  famous  mount  off  the 
Breton  coast  as  follows : 

"  The  gigantic  rock  is  an  abbey,  a  cloister, 
a  fortress,  and  a  prison,  with  exquisite  sub- 
limity and  true  dignity.  It  rises  like  a  titanic 
tower,  rock  upon  rock,  keep  upon  keep,  and 
century  upon  century.  Below  the  monks ;  higher 
the  iron  cage  of  Louis  XI.  (who,  it  seems,  left 
these  details  rather  numerously  about  his  do- 
main);  higher  yet  the  cell  of  Louis  XIV; 
higher  yet  the  prison  of  to-day.     All  is  in  a 


The  Emerald  Coast  301 

whirlwind ;  Mont  St.  Michel  is  a  very  sepulchre 
of  peace. ' ' 

Michelet's  was  not  wholly 'a  cheerful  view. 
He  was  rather  a  gloomy  man,  it  would  seem, 
but  it  is  perhaps  proper  enough  to  record  his 
views  here,  as  most  of  us  will  praise  this  won- 
derful work  to  the  limit  of  our  imagination. 

Eeally  Mont  St.  Michel  is  not  of  Brittany. 
To-day  the  changing  of  the  boundary  westward 
to  the  little  river  Couesnon  brings  it  just  over 
the  line  into  Normandy,  though  both  ramblers 
in  Normandy  and  ramblers  in  Brittany  may 
properly  enough  include  it  in  their  itineraries, 
and  should  do  so. 

To  such  spirits  as  like  that  sort  of  thing, 
there  is  a  way  open  to  the  landing,  high  up  in 
the  tower  of  the  abbey,  whence  there  is  a  won- 
derful view.  Michel et  wrote  of  it,  on  the  oc- 
casion of  a  visit,  that  it  was  a  place  for  fools; 
that  he  knew  no  spot  more  suitable  to  bring  on 
an  attack  of  vertigo. 

Michelet's  description  of  the  quicksands 
which  surround  the  mount  is  distinctly  good. 
The  native  will  tell  you  that  you  must  not  ven- 
ture upon  them,  but  he  himself  does  so,  and 
nothing  happens.  In  spite  of  this,  let  the  vis- 
itor so  much  as  leave  the  causeway  a  dozen 
yards  —  to    focus    his    camera  —  and    a    half- 


302  Rambles  in  Brittany ^^ 

dozen  burly  fellows  will  hurl  themselves  upon 
him  and  drag  him  back,  declaring  they  have 
saved  his  life,  which  means  that  one  ultimately 
pays  them  something;  a  franc  each  is  about 
the  price  that  they  apparently  consider  a  life 
worth.  Sometimes  some  poor  soul  is  engulfed, 
but  it  is  a  first-class  scare  in  most  instances. 
Michelet  says  of  these  quicksands  ("  cendre 
blanche  "),  "  It  is  not  land;  it  is  not  sea; 
I  myself  only  just  escaped  being  engulf ed." 

As  a  sort  of  side-show  to  the  wonderful 
Abbey  of  Mont  St.  Michel  is  the  stern  and  bar- 
ren Isle  of  Tombelaine. 

It  lies,  also  amid  its  own  desert  of  sand  or 
water,  according  to  the  state  of  the  tide,  about 
a  mile,  or  perhaps  a  little  more,  to  the  north- 
east of  the  mount. 

It  is  a  simple  islet  of  granite,  uncultivated, 
and  as  wild  as  it  always  has  been.  It  rises 
perhaps  125  feet  above  the  sea-level,  like  a 
giant  stepping-stone,  between  the  mount  and 
the  neighbouring  coast  before  Avranches  in 
Normandy. 

Its  history  is  intimately  bound  with  that  of 
the  mount  itself,  but  to-day  it  has  few,  if  any, 
visitors.  It  played  a  certain  minor  part  in  the 
war  of  the  Hundred  Years,  when  it  served  as 
a  sturdv  buttress  for  the  English  fleet. 


The  Emerald  Coast 303 

From  the  tenth  to  the  seventeenth  century 
it  was  occupied  by  a  religious  colony  from 
the  abbey  of  the  mount,  and  held  a  diminutive 
priory  bearing  the  vocable  of  Our  Lady  la 
Gisant;  "  a  gentle  Madonna,"  says  an  im- 
aginative Frenchman,  "  standing  beside  the 
archangel  with  the  sword." 

In  the  midst  of  the  Marsh  of  Dol  —  the  great 
Bay  of  Mont  St.  Michel  —  is  a  granite  emi- 
nence some  two  hundred  feet  above  the  sur- 
rounding plain,  at  the  summit  of  which  is 
built  the  little  village  of  Mont  Dol.  It  is  sup- 
posed to  be  the  site  of  an  ancient  shrine  con- 
secrated to  the  druids. 

Two  kilometres  from  Mont  Dol  is  the  great 
menhir  of  Champ  Dolent,  a  relic  of  the  stone 
age  which  was  pagan,  but  is  to-day  surmounted 
by  a  Christian  cross,  which  seems  paradoxical. 
It  has  no  pretence  to  beauty  or  architectural 
grandeur,  and  is  to  be  regarded  only  as  a 
mysterious  curiosity. 

When  one  first  comes  to  Dol  in  Brittany  he 
is  in  a  quandary.  Which  is  it,  city  or  village? 
The  writer  does  not  know  even  yet.  It  has 
all  the  quaintness  and  rustic  picturesqueness 
of  a  mere  hamlet,  and  again,  in  its  station,  its 
hotels,  and  its  tree-lined  boulevard,  it  takes 
on  the  aspect  of  a  city.    At  any  rate,  if  it  be- 


304  Rambles  in  Brittany 

longs  to  the  latter  classification,  it  is  somnolent, 
and  accordingly  delightful. 

"  Here,  my  good  fellow,  can  you  direct  me 
to  the  Hotel  de  la  Poste,"  one  says  to  the  first 
native  he  meets  after  leaving  the  station. 
"  Certainly,  my  good  man,"  he  replies  in  an 
equally  patronizing  tone,  "  I  will  take  you 
there."  He  declines  all  remuneration,  of 
course,  and  will  not  be  patronized  in  any  way. 
Decidedly  he  is  a  most  independent  individual, 
but  polite  withal. 

Stendhal,  in  his  "  Traveller's  Memories," 
said  of  the  great  frowning  cathedral  of  the 
episcopal  city  of  Dol :  "  It  is  the  most  beau- 
tiful example  of  a  Gothic  edifice  which  I  have 
seen."  It  is  not  difficult  to  follow  his  reason- 
ing, for  the  grim  walls  of  its  facade,  in  the 
simplest  and  severest  style,  are  indeed  mag- 
nificent examples  of  the  undecorated  Gothic 
of  a  very  early  period.  Most  folk,  however, 
will  not  call  it  beautiful  when  Chartres, 
Eheims,  Beauvais,  or  even  Sees  are  in  mind. 

Dol,  at  any  rate,  forming  the  gateway  to 
Brittany,  from  Normandy  through  the  Coten- 
tin,  was  a  most  important  centre  of  Christian- 
ity in  the  sixth  entury. 

The  foundation  of  Dol  dates  from  548,  when 
a  colony  of  Britons  coming  from  Ireland  set- 


The  Emerald  Coast 305 

tied  here  under  the  leadership  of  St.  Samson, 
from  whom  the  present  cathedral  is  named. 
This  is  but  another  of  those  links  which  bind 
the  history  of  Brittany  with  that  of  the  Celts 
from  overseas.  Legend  continues  the  story 
thus:  "  Thou  goest  by  the  sea  "  (St.  Samson 
was  told),  "  and  where  thou  wilt  disembark, 
thou  shalt  find  a  well.  Over  this  thou  wilt  build 
a  church,  and  around  it  will  group  the  houses 
forming  the  city,  of  which  thou  wilt  be  bishop." 

All  this  came  to  pass,  and  for  long  ages  the 
town  has  been  known  as  the  episcopal  city  of 
Dol.  William  the  Conqueror  besieged  Dol  in 
1075,  but  retired  after  forty  days,  having  failed 
to  sustain  his  attack.  Henry  II.  of  England 
invaded  the  city,  and  Jean  Lackland  fortified 
himself  here  in  1203,  but  it  was  retaken  by 
Guy  de  Thouars  in  the  year  following. 

TTp  to  Revolutionary  times  the  career  of  Dol 
was  unceasingly  riotous  and  bloody,  but  little 
evidences  of  a  part  so  played  remain  visible 
to-day.  All  that  reminds  one  of  its  antiquity 
is  the  charmingly  severe  and  simply  outlined 
Cathedral  of  St.  Samson,  and  the  numerous 
timbered  houses  with  their  street-front  galleries, 
always  a  most  interesting  feature  of  a  medi- 
aeval town. 

Sixteen  kilometres  south  of  Dol  is  Combourg, 


306  Rambles  in  Brittany 

not  an  important  town  in  many  ways,  and  yet 
very  important,  if  one  demands  a  sixteenth- 
century  or  earlier  label  on  all  he  admires. 

As  a  French  visitor  to  Combonrg  has  said, 
"  La  gare  de  Combourg  is  not  Combourg;  you 
have  yet  fifteen  hundred  metres  to  go."  This 
is  not  a  great  distance,  but,  as  the  town  is  so 
completely  hidden  from  the  railway,  the  sen- 
sation is  that  of  alighting  far  from  a  centre  of 
civilization. 

The  Chateau  of  Combourg  is  one  of  those 
indescribable  picturesque  fourteenth  and  fif- 
teenth century  structures  which  owe  much  to 
situation  and  environment.  It  has  a  pictur- 
esquely disposed  market  clustered  about  it,  so 
that  the  cries  of  porkers  and  their  venders 
mingle  with  the  stately  pealing  of  the  bell  of 
the  great  clock,  which  rings  out  not  only  the 
hour,  but  the  "  quarters  "  in  a  most  sonorous 
note. 

The  costumes  of  both  the  men  and  women  of 
the  region  around  Combourg  are  exceedingly 
picturesque  and  novel;  the  men  with  blouse 
and  jacket,  and  the  women  in  black  and  the 
coifs  of  Becherel,  Hede,  Tenteniac,  and  Miniac; 
all  somewhat  resembling  one  another,  and  that 
of  Miniac  looking  more  like  a  great  white- 
winged  bishop's  mitre  than  anything  else. 


The  Emerald  Coast 


307 


More  anciently  Combourg  Chateau  was  a  feu- 
dal fortress,  in  an  old  building  of  which,  now 
swallowed  up  in  the   surrounding   structures, 

A 


Coif  of  Miniac 

the  infancy  of  Rene  Chateaubriand  was  spent. 
There  is  also  an  old  tower  dating  from  1016, 
built  by  Gingoneus,  a  bishop  of  Dol.  The 
present  chateau  belongs  to  the  Countess  of  Cha- 


308  Rambles  in  Brittany 

teaubriand,  and  is  visible  to  the  curious  public 
on  Wednesday  afteruoous. 

The  hall,  the  library,  which  coutaius  the 
writing-table  of  the  author  of  the  "  Genius  of 
Christianity,"  and  his  bedroom,  where  is  the 
little  iron  bed  on  which  he  died  in  Paris,  —  all 
go  to  make  of  this  a  literary  shrine  of  prime 
importance. 

The  Chateau  of  Combourg  has  a  legend,  too, 
but  since  it  concerns  only  the  skeleton  of  a  cat, 
which  in  life  was  supposed  to  be  the  reincar- 
nation of  a  former  Count  of  Combourg,  it 
seems  unworthy  of  repetition  here. 


CHAPTER   X. 

ON  THE  ROAD  IN  BRITTANY MAYENNE,  FOUGERES, 

LAVAL,    AND    VITRE 

In  general  aspect  a  Breton  country-side  dif- 
fers widely  from  those  of  Normandy.  Here 
one  comes  upon  hedgerows  and  an  occasional 
bit  of  stone  wall,  quite  as  one  sees  them  in 
England. 

The  towns  and  communities  of  Brittany  are 
less  numerous  and  less  populous,  too,  than 
those  of  Normandy,  and  paving  is  uncommon 
in  the  towns,  and  were  it  not  for  the  steep 
ascents  and  descents,  by  which  one  leaves  such 
places  as  Mayenne,  Fougeres,  Josselin,  Auray, 
or  Quimperle,  this  would  prove  quite  a  bless- 
ing to  the  automobilist.  As  it  is,  while  they 
give  variety  to  one's  journey  by  road,  they 
do  not  by  any  means  permit  of  ' '  plain  sailing  ' ' 
at  all  times. 

The  great  national  road  from  Paris  to  Brest 
crosses  mid-Brittany,  after  leaving  Normandy, 
at  Pre-en-Pail  just  beyond  Alengon.    It  passes 

309 


310  Rambles  in  Brittany 

through  the  great  towns  of  Mayenne,  Fougeres, 
and  Rennes,  where  it  joins  the  highway  from 
Paris  by  way  of  Chartres,  Le  Mans,  Laval,  and 
Vitre. 

From  Rennes  this  road,  No.  24,  runs  straight, 
almost  as  the  crow  flies,  to  the  tip  of  Finis tere, 
by  Montfort-sur-Meu,  Loudeac,  Carhaix,  Huel- 
goat,  and  Landerneau  to  Brest. 

This  takes  one  through  the  very  heart  of 
Brittany,  though  by  no  means  is  it  the  most 
interesting  or  the  most  prosperous.  Mayenne, 
Fougeres,  Vitre,  and  Laval  form  a  quartette 
of  Breton  towns  which,  taken  as  a  whole,  have 
characteristics  quite  similar,  and  yet  different 
from  those  in  other  parts.  Virtually,  they  are 
all  hill-towns,  and  therein  lies  their  resem- 
blance, though  their  careers  have  been  varied 
indeed. 

The  run  down  into  the  valley  of  the  river 
Mayenne,  as  one  comes  into  the  town  of  the 
same  name,  is  a  wonderfully  delightful  and 
gentle  descent  of  perhaps  a  dozen  kilometres. 
There  is  nothing  very  terrific  about  it,  nor  is 
it  of  the  frankly  mountainous  order,  still  the 
eminence  to  the  eastward  is  sufficiently  elevated 
to  give  a  singularly  spacious  appearance  to  the 
landscape  above  the  river  valley  itself ;  indeed, 
next  to  that  magnificent  run  down  into  Rouen 


* 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany         311 

—  from  the  height  of  Bon  Secours  —  it  is  one 
of  the  most  splendidly  scenic  roads  in  all  North 
France. 

At  the  bottom  flows  the  Mayenne,  joining  the 
Loire  at  Angers,  and  on  its  banks  is  nestled 
snugly  the  town  of  Mayenne  itself,  with  a  truly 
delightful  riverside  hotel  and  church. 

Just  below  it  is  the  ancient  castle  built  on 
a  rocky  escarpment  overhanging  the  river. 
There  are  five  great  towers  on  the  riverside, 
and  three  others  on  the  north,  of  which  one 
alone  has  preserved  its  conical  roof.  To-day 
it  serves  as  a  prison,  but  there  are  yet  to  be 
seen  in  its  interior  some  fragments  of  the  orna- 
mentation of  the  thirteenth  century.  The  ter- 
race of  the  chateau  forms  a  delightful  prome- 
nade overlooking  the  river. 

William  the  Conqueror  besieged  Geoffrey 
III.  here  in  1064,  but  the  most  celebrated  siege 
which  the  chateau  underwent  was  that  by  the 
Count  of  Salisbury  in  1424. 

The  Hotel  de  Ville  is  an  admirable  relic  of 
other  days,  though  by  no  means  pretentious. 
It  is  a  small,  rectangular  structure,  its  front 
ornamented  with  two  enormous  solar  devices, 
and  the  whole  surmounted  by  a  graceful  bell- 
tower.  Behind  the  Hotel  de  Ville  stands  a 
bronze  statue  of  Cardinal  Cheverus,  first  Bishop 


312  Rambles  in  Brittany 

of  Boston.  The  Church  of  Notre  Dame  is 
really  a  grand  structure,  with  its  fine  showing 
of  splayed  buttresses.  Its  foundation  dates 
from  1110,  and  it  admirably  exhibits  the  best 
traditions  of  its  time. 

Five  kilometres  away  are  the  remains  of  the 
old  Cistercian  Abbey  of  Fontaine  -  Daniel, 
founded  in  1204  by  Juhel  III.  There  are  some 
remarkable  fragments  of  its  old  foundation 
still  remaining,  but  a  large  part  of  the  present 
edifice  is  of  the  seventeenth  century.  From 
Mayenne  to  Fougeres,  still  on  the  highroad  to 
the  west,  one  passes  Ernee,  whose  name  is  not 
known  to  many  travellers  and  which  is  not 
marked  on  every  map,  though  it  is  a  bustling 
town  of  five  thousand  inhabitants. 

The  origin  of  this  place  is  due  to  the  founda- 
tion of  a  chateau  —  on  the  site  of  the  present 
quaint  church  —  by  the  Lords  of  Mayenne,  who 
were,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  of  the  house  of 
Lorraine. 

Henri  of  Lorraine  was  killed  by  a  musket- 
shot  at  the  siege  of  Montaubon,  and  was 
brought  here  to  die  in  1654. 

Some  years  later  the  Seigneury  of  Mayenne 
and  Ernee  passed  to  the  hands  of  Cardinal 
Mazarin,  who  transmitted  it  to  his  niece,  and 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany         313 

gave  the  old  chateau  for  transformation  into 
the  present  church. 

Javron,  also  on  the  way  to  Fougeres,  is  a 
small  town  of  two  thousand  inhabitants,  and 
the  former  site  of  a  monastery,  founded  by 
Clotaire  for  an  anchorite  named  Constantin. 
The  present  church  is  built  over  the  tomb  of 
this  saint. 

The  situation  of  Fougeres  is  truly  remark- 
able. It  is,  moreover,  a  remarkable  place  in 
itself,  and  is  to  be  reckoned  as  one  of  these 
delightful  spots  to  visit,  which,  if  not  exactly 
popular  tourist  resorts,  are  at  least  as  satis- 
fying to  the  curiously  inclined. 

Fougeres  in  all  ways  is  this,  and  more.  It 
is  almost  the  best  example  of  a  walled  and 
fortified  town  of  the  middle  ages  existing  in  all 
North  France.  Its  situation,  on  a  great  hill, 
with  its  tower-flanked  walls  and  gates,  is  one 
of  surpassing  impressiveness,  although  to-day 
the  general  aspect  of  the  little  city  of  twenty 
thousand  inhabitants  is  modern  enough. 

Fougeres  was  one  of  the  original  nine  baro- 
nies of  Brittany,  and  owes  its  origin  to  a  cha- 
teau which  Meen,  the  son  of  Juhel  Beranger, 
Count  of  Rennes,  constructed  at  the  beginning 
of  the  ninth  century. 

To-day  the  city  walls,  the  remains  of  the  cha- 


314 


Rambles  in  Brittany 


teau,  and  the  gates  and  watch-towers  are  ad- 
mirably preserved.  The  castle  itself  is  nothing 
more  than  a  vast  ruin,  whose  entrance,  formed 


Wfjon^^y-^' 


"R»tc 


ur  deCjobDn 


Jfoucfrfrr+i 


Plan  of  the  Ancient   Walls  and  Towers  of  Fougeres 

by  three  towers,  plainly  shows  it  to  date  from 
the  twelfth  century. 

There  is  a  great  tower  yet  remaining  —  one 
of  a  twin  pair  —  known  as  the  Tower  of 
Coigny,  from  a  former  governor,  and  within 
this  tower  is  an  ancient  chapel. 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany         315 

There  are  three  other  celebrated  towers, 
well-nigh  as  perfect  as  they  were  in  the  middle 
ages  as  far  as  their  general  outlines  are  con- 
cerned. The  keep  was  razed  in  1630,  but  the 
inner  wall  which  surrounded  it,  with  its  three 
angular  towers,  is  still  to  be  seen.  The  Tower 
of  Melusine  encloses  a  museum  in  which  are 
many  relics  and  curiosities  of  a  period  con- 
temporary with  the  castle  itself.  The  ramparts 
of  the  town  are  more  or  less  ruinous,  but  are 
still  to  be  seen  throughout  its  whole  circum- 
ference. No  part  of  this  feature,  however, 
dates  from  before  the  fifteenth  century. 

There  are  two  admirable  churches,  —  relics 
of  the  middle  ages,  —  St.  Sulpice  and  St.  Leon- 
ard, also  the  ancient  convent  of  the  Urbanists, 
dating  from  1689,  now  barracks. 

There  are  many  fine  old  houses  in  wood  and 
stone  scattered  about  the  city,  and  an  octagonal 
tower,  in  which  is  a  great  clock  whose  bell  was 
cast  in  1304  by  Rolland  Chaussiere. 

North  of  the  town  is  the  Forest  of  Fougeres, 
composed  principally  of  great  beeches.  Within 
the  forest  are  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  convent 
of  the  Franciscans,  and  near  the  little  hamlet 
of  Landeau  are  the  famous  "  Caverns  of  Lan- 
deau,"  constructed,  it  is  said,  in  1173  by 
Raoul  II.  of  Fougeres,  to  hide  his  riches  and 


316  Rambles  in  Brittany 

those  of  his  vassals  from  the  rapacity  of  the 
troops  of  Henry  II.  of  England. 

Dropping  down  again  to  the  main  route  from 
Paris,  which  joins  with  that  by  the  way  of 
Mayenne  and  Fougeres  at  Rennes,  one  enters 
Laval,  the  first  Breton  town  of  any  magnitude 
on  this  route,  as  one  comes  westward. 

It  is  a  veritable  local  metropolis,  and,  like 
Mayenne,  farther  up  the  river,  it  spreads  itself 
amply  on  both  sides  of  the  stream  which  flows 
southward  to  join  the  Loire  at  Angers,  just 
below  the  country. 

The  first  Chateau  of  Laval  was  built  by  the 
Count  Guidon  or  Guy  to  protect  the  Bretons 
from  the  invasion  of  Charlemagne  or  his  suc- 
cessors. The  second  Guy  received  a  charter 
from  the  Bishop  of  Mans,  dated  in  the  fifth 
year  of  the  reign  of  King  Robert  (1002),  and 
this  designates  him  as  the  real  founder  of  the 
Chateau  of  Laval.  The  town  became  the  seat 
of  a  barony,  afterward  a  county,  of  which  the 
possessors  were  ever  famous  for  their  personal 
valour  and  their  high  lineage.  Among  them 
were  the  Montmorencys,  the  Montforts,  and  the 
Colignys. 

When,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  the  English 
had  become  virtual  masters  of  Maine,  Laval 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany         317 

alone  resisted  their  efforts,  thanks  to  the  en- 
ergy of  a  certain  Anne  of  Laval. 

The  historical  records  of  the  town  and  the 
chateau  are  ample  and  eventful,  even  down  to 
as  late  a  day  as  1871,  when,  after  the  battle  of 
Mans,  General  Chanzy  retreated  upon  Laval. 

It  was  in  the  environs  of  Laval  that  the  four 
ancient  smugglers,  the  brothers  Jean,  Frangois, 
Pierre,  and  Rene  Cottereau,  known  as  the  Chou- 
ans  (because  of  their  owl  signal,  as  the  French 
give  it),  first  rallied  and  organized  the  bands 
of  partisans  which  gradually  adopted  the  name. 

The  keep  of  the  chateau  is  a  great  cylindri- 
cal tower  of  the  twelfth  century,  remarkable 
for  its  height,  its  size,  and  the  wonderful  car- 
pentry of  its  roof.  The  great  interior  court  is 
bordered  on  two  sides  with  a  magnificent  Re- 
naissance structure  attributed  to  Guy  XVI., 
Count  of  Laval  and  Governor  of  Brittany  in 
1525.  The  chapel  has  now  been  given  up  to 
the  prisoners  sheltered  within  the  castle.  It  is 
the  masterpiece  of  the  whole  work,  and  dates 
from  the  eleventh  century. 

The  Church  of  the  Trinity,  made  a  cathedral 
in  1855,  was  in  1790  the  seat  of  the  Assemblee, 
but  in  its  most  ancient  parts  dates  from  the 
episcopate  of  Hildebert  of  Lavardin  (1110). 

There  are  some  remains  of  the  town's  an- 


318  Rambles  in  Brittany 

cient  fortifications  yet  to  be  seen,  such  as  the 
Eenaise  Tower  and  the  Spur  Tower,  which  are 
in  every  way  as  suggestive  of  former  impor- 
tance as  the  remains  of  the  castle  itself.  The 
Beucheresse  Gate  is  another  fragment  of  these 
same  fortifications. 

In  Laval  are  ten  thousand  workmen  engaged 
in  the  production  of  tent  and  awning  cloth. 
Laval  is  a  great  wheat  market  for  the  prolific 
wheat-growing  region  round  about,  so  its  com- 
mercial importance  of  to-day  is  quite  as  firmly 
established  as  is  its  historic  past. 

Laval  was  the  birthplace  of  Ambroise  Pare, 
the  founder  of  French  surgery.  It  was  he  who 
drew  the  spear-head  from  the  cheek  of  Balafre, 
and  he  who  declared  the  malady  of  Francis  I. 
to  be  incurable. 

His  statue  bears  the  following  inscription, 
"  I  dressed  the  wound,  and  God  healed  it." 

One  cannot  say  too  much  in  praise  of  Vitre, 
though  it  does  smack  of  the  popular  tourist 
resort,  with  hotels  whose  runners  tout  for 
your  patronage,  and  picture  post-card  sellers, 
who  seem  to  think  that  you  prefer  their  wares 
to  viewing  the  sights  themselves ;  but  the  hotels 
are  amply  endowed  with  those  creature  com- 
forts that  most  of  us  value  highly,  and,  if  you 
wish,  you  will  be  put  to  sleep  in  a  hygienic  bed- 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany 


319 


Beucheresse  Gate,  Laval 


320  Rambles  in  Brittany 

room,  which  is  something  like  a  prison-cell,  but 
which  must  truly  be  hygienic,  judging  from  its 
get-up. 

These  rooms,  installed  by  the  ' '  Touring  Club 
of  France, ' '  are  now  to  be  found  sprinkled  here 
and  there  throughout  the  land,  and,  if  white 
lacquered  walls  and  ceilings  and  iron  beds,  and 
simple  draperies  and  no  carpets,  —  but  highly 
waxed  floors  instead,  —  can  ensure  a  superla- 
tive cleanliness  and  airiness,  why,  so  much  the 
more  welcome  they  are;  and  surely  the  weary 
tourist  ought  not  to  mind  whether  he  sleeps 
in  a  cubicle  or  not.  Again,  the  fare  of  this 
particular  hotel  (the  Travellers')  is  so  excellent 
that  he  ought  to  be  willing  to  sleep  on  the  pro- 
verbial plank. 

Vitre,  in  spite  of  all  novelty,  is  a  true  city 
of  the  past,  and  one  literally  walks  the  by-paths 
of  history  when  he  traverses  its  streets.  All  at 
once  one  comes  to  the  ancient  and  theatrical- 
looking  Chateau  of  the  Tremoilles,  Vitre's  most 
noble  family  of  other  days. 

The  town  has  undergone  many  sieges. 
Charles  VIII.  captured  it,  and  in  1488  so- 
journed in  it  for  some  days.  During  the  wars 
of  the  League,  the  Rieux  and  the  Colignys  led 
the  revolt,  and  it  served  for  some  years  as  a 
strong    place    of    resort    for    the    Huguenots. 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany         321 

Within  the  two  hundred  years  following,  the 
Breton  Parliament,  alternately  presided  over 
by  the  Dukes  of  Vitre  and  of  Rohan,  met  here 


Plan  of  Vitre  in  1811   Showing  City   Walls 

A  —  Chateau 

B  —  Place  du  Chateau 

C  —  Fosses 

D  —  Dependencies  of  Chateau  (non-existent  to-day) 

F  — Porte  d'Enhayt 

G  —  Porte  de  Gastesel 

H  —  Eglise  Notre  Dame 


many  times,  always  amid  a  great  and  joyous 
festival  given  by  the  town. 

All  the  activity  in  the  past  has  worked  for 
the  preservation  of  many  ancient  memorials. 

The  aspect  of  the  town  is  not  so  ruinously 
picturesque  as  Fougeres,  nor  again  so  trim  and 


322 Rambles  in  Brittany 

neat  as  Mayenne  or  Laval,  but  more  than  either 
of  these  it  preserves  to-day  its  ancient  outlook 
at  every  turn. 

"  II  n'est  plus  que  Vitre  en  Bretagne,  Avi- 
gnon dans  le  Midi,  qui  conservent  au  milieu  de 
notre  epoque  leur  intacte  configuration  du 
moy en-age  "  (Victor  Hugo). 

The  chateau  itself  has  been  recently  restored, 
and  ranks  as  one  of  the  most  perfectly  pre- 
served specimens  of  military  architecture  in  all 
Brittany.  One  may  visit  the  interior  of  this 
old  fortress-chateau  in  the  care  of  a  painstak- 
ing porter. 

The  principal  mass,  known  as  the  chatelet, 
is  the  best  preserved,  and,  flanking  it  on  both 
sides,  are  series  of  crenelated  towers  and 
machicolated  walls.  In  the  courtyard  is  the 
eleventh-century  chateau,  now  incorporated  in 
the  later  work. 

On  the  same  side  is  a  charming  Eenaissance 
tower,  built  by  Guy  XVI.,  and  known  as  the 
"  Tribune  of  Tremoille."  The  five  sides  of 
this  admirable  architectural  detail  are  charm- 
ingly decorated  in  sculptured  stone,  and  on  one 
is  the  inscription  taken  from  the  Book  of  Job : 
"  Post  Tenebras  Spero  Lucem,"  the  Tremoille 
motto. 

Within  is  a  museum  with  divers  collections 


? 


Chateau  de  Vitr'e 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany 


323 


CLOCHER.    S.MAMlM 

vitr-e!  — . 


TWer  0/  Sf.  Martin,    Vitre 


324  Rambles  in  Brittany 

of  many  things  of  an  era  contemporary  with 
the  structure  itself. 

Opposite  the  great  entrance  gateway  to  the 
castle  is  a  modest  little  house,  once  the  resi- 
dence (or  temporary  abode)  of  Madame  de 
Sevigne,  and  now  occupied  by  the  "  Cercle 
Militaire." 

In  the  environs  —  five  kilometres  to  the  south 
—  is  the  Chateau  of  Eochers,  better  known  as 
the  domicile  of  Madame  de  Sevigne,  and  one  of 
the  stock  "  sights.' '  It  was  from  the  Chateau 
of  Eochers  that  she  dated  so  large  a  number  of 
her  letters  in  1670  -  71. 

In  a  letter  bearing  date  of  the  twenty-second 
of  July,  1671,  she  writes  thus  to  Madame  de 
Grignan : 

"  Madame  de  Chaulnes  arrived  on  Sunday, 
but  in  what  manner  think  you !  On  her  beauti- 
ful feet,  between  eleven  and  twelve  at  night. 
One  might  think  that  Vitre  was  in  Bohemia. 

1 l  She  made  no  ceremony  of  her  coming.  .  .  . 
She  had  come  from  Nantes  by  La  Guerche,  and 
her  carriage  stuck  fast  between  two  rocks  half 
a  league  from  Vitrei' 

It  was  from  the  Chateau  of  Eochers  that 
Madame  de  Sevigne  wrote  to  her  daughter: 
"  On  Sunday  last,  just  as  I  had  sealed  my 
former  letter,  I  saw  enter  our  courtyard  four 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany 


325 


326  Rambles  in  Brittany 

chariots  with  six  horses,  with  fifty  mounted 
guards,  many  led  horses,  and  many  mounted 
pages.' ' 

These  were  gallant  days  at  Madame  de 
Sevigne's  Breton  home,  and  to  read  all  of  her 
letters  from  Eochers  —  mainly  to  her  daugh- 
ter—  is  to  get  a  wonderful  epitome  of  the 
seventeenth-century  social  life  in  this  part  of 
France. 

On  the  above  occasion  the  company  included 
M.  de  Chaulnes,  M.  de  Eohan,  M.  de  Lavardin, 
M.  de  Coetlegon,  and  M.  de  Locmaria,  the  Baron 
de  Guais,  the  Bishops  of  Rennes  and  St.  Malo, 
"  and  eight  or  ten  I  knew  not,"  she  continued. 

Throughout  the  chateau  and  its  dependencies, 
the  illusion  of  Madame  de  Sevigne's  time  has 
been  well  kept  up  unto  to-day.  One  learns  that 
the  chateau  became  the  property  of  the  Sevignes 
upon  the  marriage  of  Anne  of  Mathefelon, 
"  Lady  of  Rochers,"  with  William  of  Sevigne, 
chamberlain  to  the  Duke  of  Brittany. 

The  kindly  and  well-meaning  concierge,  or 
cicerone,  or  whatever  one  chooses  to  call  him  or 
her  who  conducts  him  over  the  chateau  and  its 
grounds,  is  somewhat  of  a  bore,  though  one 
has  not  the  courage  to  cut  off  the  prattle  for 
fear  he  may  lose  something  which  may  not  have 
been  offered  to  others. 


On  the  Road  in  Brittany         327 

It  is  somewhat  disconcerting  and  even  annoy- 
ing to  be  told,  however,  —  when  about  to  stroll 
down   a   tree-alleyed  path,  —  that   "the   mar- 


Arms  of  Madame  de   Se  eigne 

chioness  never  went  there. ' '  Of  course  it  's  pure 
conjecture  on  the  part  of  this  twentieth-century 
guide,  since  the  noble  marchioness  has  been 
dead  some  two  hundred  years  or  more,  but,  as 
aforesaid,  the  interruption  fascinates  one  with 
its  coolness. 


328  Rambles  in  Brittany 

At  the  right  of  the  chateau  are  the  gardens 
traced  by  the  famous  Lenotre.  In  the  "  Let- 
ters "  one  reads  frequent  references  to  these 
great  gardens  with  their  vast  and  ancient  for- 
ests of  tall  timber. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


RENNES   AND   BEYOND 


Rennes  was  once  a  great  provincial  capital, 
as  great  politically,  perhaps,  as  Rouen,  but  it 
has  not  a  tithe  of  the  fascination  or  wealth  of 
attraction  of  the  Norman  metropolis,  and  never 
had.  Its  Cathedral  of  St.  Pierre  is  a  cold,  un- 
feeling thing,  and  its  eighteenth-century  town 
hall,  its  great  military  barracks,  and  its  palace 
of  a  university  are  in  no  way  great  or  lovable 
architectural  monuments.  As  an  offset  against 
the  mediocrity,  is  the  somewhat  bare  exterior 
of  the  court-house,  built  in  1618  for  the  Breton 
Parliament,  and  furnished  now,  as  then,  in  most 
luxurious  fashion. 

The  Salle  des  Pas-Perdus  is  a  vast  apart- 
ment, most  delightfully  planned  and  decorated, 
and  of  the  Grand  Parliamentary  Chamber  the 
same  may  be  said.  Above  the  floor  of  this 
chamber  are  still  to  be  seen  the  tribunes  where 
the  dames  of  other  days,  of  the  days  of  Madame 
de  Sevigne,  assisted  at  the  sessions. 

329 


330  Rambles  in  Brittany 

The  town  hall  contains  a  library  of  eighty 
thousand  volumes,  of  which  one  hundred  or 
more  are  first  editions,  and  six  hundred  manu- 
scripts. 

The  museums  of  the  university  palace  are 
exceedingly  rich  in  treasure,  and  are  in  every 
way  worthy  of  a  great  provincial  capital. 

For  the  rest,  Rennes  is  a  most  ordinary,  un- 
interesting town,  though  it  does  possess  two 
mediaeval  monuments  of  remark:  the  Porte 
Mordelaise,  a  historic  souvenir  of  the  military 
architecture  of  the  middle  ages,  and  Church 
of  Our  Lady,  the  ancient  chapel  and  cloister  of 
an  eleventh-century  monastery  founded  by  the 
Bishop  St.  Melaine. 

There  are  many  fine  old  Eenaissance  houses 
scattered  here  and  there  about  the  town,  but  the 
general  aspect  is  modern,  and  mediocre  at  that. 
Rennes  would  have  been  called  by  century-ago 
travellers  "  a  well-built  town,"  and  such  it 
certainly  is,  as  becomes  the  ancient  capital  of 
the  duchy  of  Brittany. 

In  later  days  it  is  mostly  known  to  the  gen- 
eral reader  as  the  scene  of  the  famous  Dreyfus 
trial,  and  its  only  liveliness  comes  from  the 
officers  of  the  tenth  army  corps,  who,  of  a  sum- 
mer's night,  frequent  the  coffee-rooms  opposite 
the  court-house  or  the  theatre,  or  promenade 


Rennes  and  Beyond 


331 


332  Rambles  in  Brittany 


in  the  Thabor  and  the  flower-garden,  the  old 
gardens  of  the  Benedictine  convent. 

Just  previous  to  the  Revolution,  there  were 
stirring  times  in  Rennes,  when  a  marshal  of 
France  commanded  the  troops  camped  within 
the  city.     The   discontent   of  the  people  had 
arisen  from  two  distinct  causes,  the  price  of 
bread  and  the  abolition  of  its  ancient  parlia- 
ment.    The  former  seems  a  good  enough  ex- 
cuse, but  the  latter  is  inexplicable,  except,  per- 
haps, as  the  snuffing  out  of  an  ancient  source 
of  local  pride.     It  was  to  Rennes  that  Pere 
Caussin,  the  father  confessor  of  Louis  XIII., 
was  sent  by  Richelieu,  when  he  proved  himself 
incapable  of  becoming  the  tool  of  the  cardinal. 
The  prison  of  state  at  Rennes  was  a  terrible 
place  in  those  days,  but  the  true  churchman 
preferred  it  to  exile  as  a  missionary  in  the 
wilds. 

All  this  and  much  more  of  political  history 
made  Rennes  a  famous  centre  in  times  past, 
but  to-day  it  is  so  much  like  a  bad  imitation 
of    Paris,    that    in    desperation    the    stranger 
within  the  gates  finally  takes  his  departure  for 
more  idyllic  parts,  with  the  vow  that  never 
again  will  he  seek  to  learn  of  present-day  Brit- 
tany from  the  cafes  and  boulevards  of  Rennes. 
One  other  comment  may  be  made  on  the  un- 


Rennes  and  Beyond  333 

loveliness  of  Kennes  as  a  place  of  temporary 
sojourn;  and  that  is  on  its  cab-drivers.  The 
driver  of  a  fiacre  in  the  average  Breton  large 
town  is  like  his  fellows  of  Paris.  He  drives 
with  a  loose  rein,  and  rushes  helter-skelter 
down  narrow  streets  with  never  a  care  for 
other  traffic,  or  for  foot-passengers,  save  a 
shouted,  "  He,  la-bas!  "  which  is  so  sudden  and 
unforeseen  that  it  is  quite  useless  as  a  warn- 
ing. There  have  been  those  who  have  said  that 
the  hoot  of  an  automobile's  horn  would  drive 
even  the  "  sense  of  traffic  " —  a  new  sense  re- 
cently discovered  by  the  Parisian  medical 
journals  —  from  out  of  the  brain  of  even  the 
most  careful  of  persons!  This  is  as  naught 
compared  to  the  Breton  cab-driver's  stentorian 
"  He,  la-bas!  " 

As  one  comes  to  the  open  country  again,  he 
leaves  all  these  distractions  behind,  and  revels 
in  nature,  and  if  he  be  travelling  by  road,  in 
the  stubbornness  of  cows  and  sheep  and  the 
aggressiveness  of  geese  and  ducks,  all  road- 
users  like  himself. 

Westward  of  Eennes,  twenty  kilometres  by 
road,  is  Montfort-sur-Meu,  a  charming  small 
town,  situated  upon  the  banks  of  two  tiny 
rivers.  Its  origin  dates  back  to  an  ancient 
eleventh-century   fortress,    which   remains   to- 


334  Rambles  in  Brittany 

day  in  the  form  of  a  great  cylindrical  machi- 
colated  tower.  The  Seigneury  of  Montfort, 
since  the  fifteenth  century,  has  passed  succes- 
sively, by  marriage  or  by  heritage,  through  the 
houses  of  Laval,  Rieux,  Coligny,  and  La 
Tremouille. 

Next  is  Montauban,  with  a  fine,  moss-grown 
ruin  of  a  chateau,  dating  from  the  fifteenth 
century;  the  town  itself  numbers  three  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  but  it  does  not  look  it. 

St.  Meen,  a  dozen  kilometres  farther  on,  was 
born  of  a  monastery  founded  in  the  tenth  cen- 
tury by  a  holy  man  of  its  name.  It  was  des- 
troyed and  rebuilt  many  times  in  the  years  to 
follow,  but  its  old  abbatial  church  still  exists, 
one  tower  coifed  by  a  dome,  and  another, 
smaller  and  flat.  But  no  one  comes  here  to  see 
this  fine  old  monkish  relic  but  the  farming 
folk  from  round  about,  though  St.  Meen  is  a 
town  of  three  thousand  souls  and  an  idyllic  ar- 
tists' sketching-ground.  No  colony  of  painters 
has  yet  settled  here,  leaving  it  a  wholly  new 
field  to  exploit  by  any  painter  looking  for  new 
worlds  to  conquer. 

Loudeac  and  Pontivy,  the  one  in  the  Cotes 
du  Nord,  and  the  other  in  the  Morbihan,  are 
two  characteristically  Breton  towns  bearing  no 
relation   whatever   to   the    outside   world.     It 


Rennes  and  Beyond  335 

seems  doubtful  indeed  if  the  inhabitants  of 
these  two  centres  are  aware  that  there  is  any 
outside  world,  so  taken  up  are  they  with  their 
own  little  affairs. 

Loudeac  has  some  six  thousand  inhabitants, 
but  it  has  no  apparent  industries  to  hold  all 
these  people  together,  and  it  seems  as  if  they 
had  simply  grouped  themselves  at  the  crossing 
of  five  great  routes  and  built  a  town.  Its  foun- 
dation does  not  go  very  far  back  into  antiquity ; 
its  parish  church  is  only  150  years  old,  but 
the  Chapel  of  Notre  Dame  Vertus  dates  from 
the  thirteenth  century. 

In  October,  November,  and  December  are 
held  great  cider-apple  markets,  which,  from 
their  magnitude,  would  seem  to  be  the  chief 
source  of  income  of  the  population. 

The  ancient  slogan  of  Pontivy,  born  of  Revo- 
lutionary times,  was  "  Freedom  or  Death," 
which  is  not  far  different  from  the  battle-cry 
of  socialists  the  world  over  to-day.  The  con- 
dition of  the  inhabitants  of  Pontivy,  however, 
does  not  differ  from  most  folk  elsewhere,  and 
the  frowning  walls  of  its  old  castle  ironically 
point  to  the  fact  that  the  time  has  not  yet  come 
when  a  successful  social  revolution  can  be 
steered  through  the  breakers  ahead  —  not  even 
in  France,  where  indeed  there  are  even  more 


336  Rambles  in  Brittany 

advanced  ideas  on  the  subject  than  in  Germany 
itself. 

The  memory  of  this  event,  though  the 
"  Treaty  of  Pontivy  "  was  sent  broadcast 
through  all  the  communes  of  France,  has  quite 
died  out,  and  the  serenity  of  a  little  Breton 
market-town  long  ago  settled  upon  Pontivy, 
with  nothing  but  a  dim  memory  existing  to 
neutralize  the  admiration  one  is  bound  to  have 
for  the  town's  wonderfully  picturesque  castle. 
It  is  a  grand  ruin  with  crumbled  roof  and  walls, 
but  its  outlines  are  as  clear  as  ever  they  were, 
and  if  it  has  not  the  magnitude  or  magnificence 
of  many  others  of  its  class,  it  looks  far  more 
imposing,  and  forms  an  exquisite  stage  setting 
for  any  mediaeval  romance  one  is  able  to  con- 
jure up.  The  history  of  Pontivy  and  its  castle 
is  this: 

The  town  owes  its  origin  to  a  monastery  built 
here  in  the  seventh  century  by  St.  Ivy,  an  Eng- 
lish monk.  The  castle,  however,  was  a  founda- 
tion of  seven  hundred  years  later,  by  John  of 
Kohan,  in  1485.  At  the  creation  of  the  duchy 
of  Eohan,  in  1663,  Pontivy  became  the  first 
seat  of  this  jurisdiction. 

At  the  Revolution  the  famous  Pontivy  treaty 
mentioned  came  into  being,  with  the  result  that 
in  1802  a  consuls'  decree  prescribed  the  con- 


Rennes  and  Beyond  337 

struction  of  a  vast  barrack  at  Pontivy,  and  the 
canalization  of  the  river  Blavet,  upon  which  it 
sits,  down  to  the  sea. 

Napoleon,  however,  by  a  decree  given  at 
Milan,  sought  to  create  a  new  town  south  of 
the  present  city,  whose  name  should  be  Napo- 
leonville.  All  this  because  Pontivy  had  de- 
clared for  the  rights  of  man.  When  the  Revo- 
lutionists sought  power  Pontivy  had  every 
chance,  but  with  Napoleon  his  desire  was  to 
efface  it. 

Pontivy  is  distinctly  Breton  in  every  aspect; 
its  manners,  customs,  and  above  all  its  cos- 
tumes. Decidedly  one's  itinerary  in  Brittany 
should  be  made  to  include  it. 

Rostrenen  is  a  delightful  old  town  banked 
high  upon  a  hillside  some  six  hundred  feet 
above  the  valley.  The  old-time  collegiate 
church  is  a  thirteenth-century  foundation, 
which,  though  restored  in  our  day,  has  all  the 
loveliness  of  the  era  of  its  foundation  well 
preserved. 

Like  the  church  at  Josselin  it  is  called  Our 
Lady  of  the  Blackberry-bush,  from  a  miracu- 
lous Virgin  found  beneath  a  blackberry-bush. 
The  great  day  of  pilgrimage  to  this  shrine  is 
the  fifteenth  of  August. 

Carhaix  is  a  little  Breton  town  now  all  but 


338  Rambles  in  Brittany 


shorn  of  its  former  importance,  though  its 
breed  of  cattle  is  prized  above  all  others  in 
Brittany,  —  as  if  that  were  enough  to  keep  its 
memory  alive.  Anciently  Carhaix  was  the  cap- 
ital of  the  Vorganiurn,  whose  peoples  took  an 
active  part  in  the  wars  against  Caesar.  Seven 
Roman  ways  centred  here,  and  there  are  yet 
to  be  seen  the  remains  of  an  ancient  Roman 
aqueduct. 

Vorganiurn  ultimately  lost  its  rank,  and  was 
made  a  part  of  the  realm  of  Cornouaille 
founded  by  King  Grollo,  who  gave  Carhaix  its 
present  name  —  then  Ker-Ahes. 

Carhaix  is  the  birthplace  of  La  Tour  d'Au- 
vergne,  "  the  first  Grenadier  of  France."  His 
career  was  almost  legendary,  and  after  his 
famous  infernal  column  which  went  up  against 
the  Spaniards  in  the  Pyrenees,  he  retired  to 
the  city  of  his  birth,  and  took  up  the  study  of 
the  Celtic  tongue.  In  1796,  when  the  Terror 
broke  out,  at  the  age  of  fifty-two,  he  took  the 
haversack  and  cartridge-box  of  a  simple  soldier, 
to  replace  the  son  of  an  old  friend  who  had  been 
drawn  by  conscription.  He  would  never  ad- 
vance a  single  grade,  but  remained  in  the  ranks 
from  this  time  forward,  and  was  killed  at  the 
battle  of  Oberhausen  in  Bavaria.  His  heart  is 
enshrined  in  the  Hotel  des  Invalides  at  Paris, 


Rennes  and  Beyond  339 

having  been  brought  there  and  buried  with 
great  pomp  in  1904. 

Carhaix  has  a  real  novelty  in  its  horse- 
market,  held  before  the  Church  of  St.  Tremeur. 
There  is  nothing  actually  profane  or  sacri- 
legious about  this  perhaps ;  but  yet  again,  per- 
haps there  is.  Certainly  it  is  incongruous  to 
see  a  long  string  of  horses  tethered  to  the  very 
church  door-knob  itself,  with  the  breeders 
seated  back  against  the  church  wall  smoking 
tobacco  and  eating  and  drinking. 

Huelgoat  is  in  the  very  heart  of  Finistere. 
It  is  as  typical  in  the  manners  and  customs  of 
these  parts  as  is  Pont  l'Abbe  in  Cornouaille  or 
Auray  in  Morbihan.  It  has  one  of  the  finest 
sites  given  to  a  town  in  all  Brittany,  and 
abounds  in  quaintness  and  beauty. 

There  are  various  ecclesiastical  monuments 
and  religious  shrines  in  and  near  the  town,  of 
which  the  guide-books  tell,  and  all  are  well 
worth  visiting. 

The  market-place  of  Huelgoat  does  not  differ 
greatly  from  other  market-places  in  Brittany. 
The  costumes  are  brilliant  in  magpie  colours, 
—  if  white  coifs  flashing  in  the  sunlight  can 
be  said  to  make  colour,  —  and  the  little  life 
and  the  little  affairs  of  the  peasant  people 
scintillate  and  fluctuate  from  day  to  day  as  if 


340  Rambles  in  Brittany 

they  were  the  most  serious  and  momentous 
things  in  all  the  world. 

Above,  on  the  right,  rises  the  quaint  bell- 
tower  of  the  sixteenth-century  church,  not  beau- 
tiful of  itself,  perhaps,  but  grouping  wonder- 
fully with  the  moving  foreground. 

Huelgoat  is  a  great  place  for  ducks,  evi- 
dently, for  ducks  big,  little,  and  of  all  colours 
of  the  rainbow  are  apparently  the  chief  and 
staple  article  of  trade.  What  the  value  may 
be  to-day,  as  compared  with  what  it  was  last 
market-day,  no  one  can  prognosticate.  Two 
francs  is  certainly  not  much  for  a  nice  fat  duck, 
just  waiting  to  be  plucked  and  garnished  with 
green  peas,  but  two  francs  for  a  brace  is 
cheaper  still,  and  two  francs  for  a  whole  flock 
or  bevy,  or  whatever  formation  ducks  group 
themselves  in,  is  a  still  better  bargain,  and  on 
occasions  you  may  buy  a  whole  duck  and  drake 
family  —  father  and  mother  and  two  or  three 
youngsters  —  for  a  matter  of  une  piece,  which 
is  the  Breton's  way  of  counting  a  hundred  sous 
or  five  francs. 

From  Huelgoat  the  highroad  branches  to 
Morlaix  in  the  northwest,  and  Landerneau,  di- 
rectly to  the  west,  when  one  comes  once  more  on 
the  national  road,  running  westward  from  Alen- 
§on  by  way  of  Fougeres  and  the  north  to  Brest. 


Huelpoat 


CHAPTER  XII. 

RELIGIOUS   FESTIVALS   AND   PARDONS 

Brittany  has  been  called  *  *  the  Land  of  Cal- 
varies and  Pardons.' '  This  does  not  mean 
much  to  one  who  has  never  come  under  the 
spell  of  these  strange  sights  and  survivals,  but 
it  means  a  great  deal  to  those  who  realize  to  the 
full  the  real  significance  of  the  devoutness  and 
religious  motives  which  inspire  the  Breton  folk 
to  worship  God  in  a  manner  which,  in  the  pres- 
ent age  of  disregard  for  the  Christian  religion 
of  our  forefathers,  seems  to  be  playing  less  and 
less  a  foremost  part. 

"  Venez  done  un  tour  au  Pays  de  St.  Yves. 

Au  pays  du  Creizker  finement  dentele\ 

Venez  done  faire  un  tour  au  Pays  de  Calvaires, 

Au  Pays  des  Pardons  mystiques  et  joyeux." 

So  sang  Theodore  Botrel  in  a  charming  series 
of  verses  written  as  an  invitation  to  his  fellow 
Frenchmen  to  know  more  of  the  ancient  prov- 

341 


342  Rambles  in  Brittany 

ince  of  Brittany.  Since  Brittany  is  so  very 
religious,  the  most  devout  of  all  the  provinces 
of  the  France  of  to-day,  the  following  account 
of  the  disposition  of  certain  observances  under 
the  care  of  the  state  is  apropos. 

France  is  said  to  be  Catholic,  because  the 
majority  of  the  people  profess  Catholicism, 
which  apparently  answers  their  wants  better 
than  any  other.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however, 
there  is  the  coestablishment  of  four  religions, 
all  of  which  are  recognized  by  the  state  and 
their  ministers  paid  by  the  state.  So,  virtually, 
there  are  four  state  religions,  if  they  can  be 
so  called.  In  truth,  there  is  no  religious  head 
in  France ;  neither  the  chief  of  state,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris  (there  are  three  other  heads 
of  religions,  so  manifestly  one  could  not  be 
chosen),  nor  the  minister  of  public  worship  can 
be  called  upon  to  fill  the  office,  hence  there  is 
no  national  religion,  though  the  Koman  Cath- 
olic faith  predominates  to-day  as  in  the  past. 

Since  we  are  concerned  herein  with  Brittany 
alone,  and  since  the  Breton  is  accounted  the 
most  devoutly  Catholic  of  all  Frenchmen,  it  is 
enough  to  define  the  organization  of  the  Eoman 
Catholic  religion  alone,  leaving  the  question  of 
the  Calvinists,  the  Lutherans,  and  the  Israelites 


Religious  Festivals  343 

quite  apart,  as  they  exist  not  at  all  in  Brittany 
as  a  factor  of  the  local  conditions  of  life. 

The  parish  is  the  unit  in  the  Catholic  Church 
organization  in  France,  as  the  commune  is  the 
unit  in  civil  administration;  the  parishes  are 
divided  into  cures  and  succursales. 

The  first  class,  which  number  forty-five  hun- 
dred throughout  France,  have  for  their  pastor 
a  priest  who  is  immovable,  nominated  by  the 
bishop  with  the  approval  of  the  government. 
The  second  class  have  a  pastor  who  is  nomi- 
nated by  the  bishop,  but  who  can  be  removed  or 
replaced.  The  parish  priest  may  have  one  or 
more  assistants.  Above  the  parish  priest  in 
rank  is  the  bishop. 

In  general  the  bishoprics  correspond  with  the 
departments,  though  there  are  eighty-four  dio- 
ceses and  but  sixty-seven  bishops,  the  arch- 
bishops of  the  "ecclesiastical  provinces  " — 
which  often  include  several  departments  and 
dioceses  —  making  up  the  number. 

In  Brittany  the  Departments  of  Ille-et-Vi- 
laine,  Cotes  du  Nord,  Finistere,  Morbihan,  and 
Loire-Inferieure  have  a  bishopric,  with  an  arch- 
bishopric at  Bennes. 

The  bishops  are  nominated  by  the  chief  of 
the  state,  but  are  invested  canonically  by  the 
Pope.     They   are   assisted   by   vicars-general, 


344  Rambles  in  Brittany 

who  undertake  the  administrative  functions  of 
the  diocese.  The  canonical  chapter  of  the  cathe- 
dral, the  diocesan  seminary,  and  all  other  semi- 
naries are  under  the  authority  of  the  vicar- 
general. 

Above  the  bishops  are  the  archbishops,  who 
administer  to  the  wants  of  their  diocese  in  the 
same  way  as  the  bishops,  and,  in  addition,  pre- 
side at  all  provincial  councils,  ordain  the  bish- 
ops, and  in  general  have  a  certain  jurisdiction 
over  the  bishoprics  of  their  sees. 

The  ecclesiastical  provinces,  as  the  great  ad- 
ministrative districts  of  the  Church  are  known, 
correspond  to-day,  in  a  great  part,  to  the  an- 
cient provinces  of  the  Eoman  epoch  in  Gaul,  as 
the  bishoprics  themselves  correspond  with  the 
ancient  cities  and  towns. 

Higher  up  even  than  the  archbishops  are  the 
cardinals,  nominated  by  the  Pope  with  the  con- 
currence of  the  head  of  the  French  nation. 
To-day  there  are  five  cardinals  in  France,  all 
being  titularies  of  one  of  the  Eoman  churches 
and  members  of  the  Sacred  College  which  elects 
the  Pope. 

Those  who  know  Brittany  will  recognize  as 
the  foremost  trait  and  characteristic  of  the 
people  their  devotion  to  religious  forms  and 
ceremonies. 


Religious  Festivals  345 

It  has  been  said  that  by  nature  the  Bretons 
are  conservative.  This  is  indeed  true  enough, 
but  they  are  something  more,  they  are  super- 
stitious, not  only  with  regard  to  certain  phases 
of  their  religion,  but  also  with  respect  to  many 
of  their  local  customs,  which  have  naught  to  do 
with  religion.  It  is  said  that  belief  in  witch- 
craft still  endures,  and  certain  it  is  that  folk- 
lore and  fairy-lore  are,  in  some  parts,  quite  as 
much  of  the  life  of  the  people  as  is  the  case 
in  the  bogs  of  Ireland.  The  Celtic  imagination, 
which  is  the  same  in  both  instances,  doubtless 
accounts  for  this.  What  the  Bretons  really  are, 
or  have  been,  though  they  have  not  often  been 
accused  of  it,  is  pagan,  —  at  least  some  of  them 
are.  It  was  only  in  the  seventeenth  century 
that  the  pagan  cult  —  as  a  body  of  magnitude 
—  was  suppressed.  This  again  was  a  survival, 
of  course,  from  the  barbarous  rites  and  prac- 
tices of  the  druids,  which  indeed  were  the 
same  elsewhere,  so  it  need  not  be  laid  up 
against  the  Bretons  alone. 

Probably  those  vast  colonies  of  megalithic 
monuments  at  Carnac,  and  their  orphaned 
brothers  and  sisters  scattered  elsewhere 
throughout  Brittany,  did  much  to  keep  the 
flames  aglow  on  pagan  altars,  and  even  to-day 
it  is  easy  to  perceive  with  what  awe  and  vener- 


346  Rambles  in  Brittany 


ation  the  simple-minded  Breton  peasant  re- 
gards these  weird  survivals  of  other  days.  At 
any  rate,  Breton  religion  to-day  is  a  devotion 
to  many  forms  and  ceremonies. 

Brittany  has  been  called  the  land  of  pardons 
(pays  des  pardons).  Every  one  knows  of  these 
great  Breton  festivals  and  of  their  significance. 
If  one  travel  between  May  and  October,  scarcely 
a  week  will  pass  without  his  falling  unawares 
upon  one  or  another  of  these  great  sacred  fetes. 

All  Bretons  do  not  give  to  these  rites  the 
sacred  regard  with  which  they  were  originally 
intended  to  be  endowed.  Decidedly  they  have 
been  profaned  only  too  often,  and  at  times 
there  is  a  little  too  much  license.  The  Breton 
pardon  is  by  no  means  to  be  thought  of  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  kermess  of  Flanders, 
which  is  a  merrymaking  pure  and  simple,  with 
not  even  a  side-light  of  religion  thrown  upon 
it. 

The  five  great  pardons  of  Brittany  are  held 
each  year  as  follows: 

"  The  Pardon  of  the  Poor,"  at  St.  Yves; 
"  The  Pardon  of  the  Singers,' '  at  Rumengol; 
"  The  Pardon  of  the  Fire,"  at  St.  Jean  du 
Doigt;  "The  Pardon  of  the  Mountain,"  at 
Tromenie  de  St.  Ronan;  "  The  Pardon  of  the 
Sea,"  at  Ste.  Anne  de  la  Palude. 


Religious  Festivals  347 

It  is  a  moot  question  as  to  just  how  much  of 
romance  is  in  the  make-up  of  the  Breton  char- 
acter. Emotional  the  people  are,  but  the  emo- 
tion that  leads  them  into  the  enthusiasm  which 
they  exhibit  at  their  great  religious  festivals 
and  pardons  is  more  superstitious  than  ro- 
mantic. 

The  druidism,  or  paganism,  or  whatever  the 
religion  {sic)  of  the  ancient  peoples  of  the 
Armorican  peninsula  may  have  been,  bears  not 
the  least  traditional  resemblance  to  the  fervour 
of  the  devotees  of  the  pardons  of  to-day,  but 
one  can  readily  believe  that  the  same  spirit,  if 
with  a  different  motive,  does  exist  even  now. 

The  blessing  of  the  boats,  the  birds,  the 
cows,  and  what  not,  which  takes  place  periodi- 
cally at  different  points  along  the  Breton  coast, 
—  for  it  is  mostly  along  the  coast  that  these 
observances  take  place,  —  smacks  not  a  little  of 
something  that  is  of  more  psychological  pur- 
port than  mere  religious  devotion. 

From  whatever  tradition  these  great  relig- 
ious observances  have  descended,  there  is  no 
question  of  the  sincerity  of  the  participants, 
though  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  the 
"  sacred  "  and  "  profane  "  elements  which 
meet  on  these  occasions. 

Brittany,  perhaps  as  much  as  any  other  of  the 


348  Rambles  in  Brittany 


ancient  provinces  of  France,  has  preserved  its 
local  customs  and  traditions,  unblushingly  in- 
different to  the  changing  conditions  round 
about  them.  Of  course  there  is  no  reason  why 
religion  and  its  observances  should  change 
with  the  march  of  time,  but  they  do,  neverthe- 
less, in  France  as  much  as  in  any  other  land. 
Only  in  Brittany,  apparently,  do  the  congrega- 
tions of  men  and  women  —  for  elsewhere  the 
congregations  are  mostly  women  — of  great 
churches  approach  to  anything  like  the  numbers 
that  the  churches  were  built  to  contain. 

Throughout  this  land  of  calvaries,  too,  there 
will  be  found  at  all  times  of  the  day,  and  often 
at  night,  a  tiny  congregation  of  one,  two,  or 
perhaps  a  half  a  dozen,  peasant  or  fisher  folk 
kneeling  before  one  of  these  wayside  crosses, 
and  invoking  their  God  after  the  manner  they 
have  been  taught,  in  a  truly  devout  and  sincere 
fashion,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of 
some  parts,  where  the  peasant,  when  on  a  visit 
to  town  on  the  market-day,  rushes  in  and  out 
of  a  church  with  hardly  time  enough  devoted 
to  the  whole  process  even  to  have  used  the  holy 
water. 

Brittany  may  be  a  poor  and  impoverished 
province,  and  in  many  respects  it  has  not  the 
abundance  of  the  good  things  of  life  which  one 


Religious  Festivals  349 

finds  in  Touraine,  Burgundy,  or  the  Midi,  but 
there  is  a  general  air  of  prosperity  in  the  gay 
accoutrements  of  the  men  and  women  who  shine 
forth  on  the  occasions  of  the  great  pardons, 
showing  a  snug  wardrobe  stowed  away  some- 
where. 

As  one  leaves  Normandy,  at  Pontorson,  he 
enters  Brittany  —  the  land  of  calvaries.  These 
fine  monuments  are  not  the  calvaries  which 
have  made  the  old  province  famous,  —  the  great 
stone  crosses  of  Finistere,  —  but  are  for  the 
most  part  unpretentious  pieces  of  wood  put 
together  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  or  a  like  symbol, 
rudely  hammered  out  of  a  piece  of  iron  by  the 
local  blacksmith. 

One  notes  many  of  these  simple  crosses 
throughout  Brittany ;  simple  as  compared  with 
the  more  elaborate  calvaries,  though  they  may 
have  one,  two,  or  even  more  sculptured  figures 
in  the  arms  or  branches  of  the  cross.  One  of 
the  most  ancient  of  these,  dating  from  the 
fourteenth  or  fifteenth  century,  is  at  Scaer  in 
Finistere. 

It  is  a  question  as  to  whether  any  of  the  great 
monumental  calvaries  of  Brittany  can  be  con- 
sidered really  artistic.  They  are  imposing,  — 
some  of  them  even  terrifying  in  their  strange 
grandeur,  —  but  all  of  them  seem  theatrical, 


350  Rambles  in  Brittany 

however  sincere  and  devout  the  motive  for  their 
erection  may  have  been.  The  chief  and  most 
elaborate  examples  are  those  at  Plougastel, 
near  Brest,  and  St.  Thegonnec  in  Finistere 
(dating  from  1610). 

Besides  these  really  great  and  celebrated 
functions  are  many  others  of  minor  purport, 
such  as  the  "  Benediction  of  the  Boats  "  and 
the  "  Benediction  of  the  Fields."  The  latter 
occurs  when  the  caterpillars  and  earthworms 
fall  upon  and  ravage  the  land.  The  local  cure, 
with  the  permission  of  the  bishop,  then  blesses 
the  fields.  In  the  midst  of  the  fields  the  cure 
takes  up  his  position  on  some  slight  eminence, 
clad  in  a  white  surplice,  with  a  violet  stole,  and 
begs  God  to  exterminate  the  noxious  insects, 
the  prayers  meanwhile  being  accompanied  with 
the  sprinkling  of  holy  water  and  burning  of 
incense. 

The  Pardon  of  St.  Jean  du  Doigt,  on  the 
twenty-second  of  June,  is  perhaps  the  most 
solemn  of  all  its  species,  and  for  that  reason  is 
described  here. 

The  Pardon  of  St.  Yves,  in  the  Tregarris,  of 
Rumengol  and  Ste.  Anne  de  la  Palude,  in  Finis- 
tere, are  especially  religious  and  severe,  while 
that  of  Notre  Dame  de  la  Clarte,  in  the  Morbi- 


Religious  Festivals  351 

ban,  has  the  double  purpose  of  homage  to  Our 
Lady  and  the  facilitating  of  marriage. 

Here  the  young  peasants  in  search  of  a 
spouse  promenade  around  the  church,  and 
when  they  have  made  their  choice  they  address 
the  young  lady  and  ask  her  if  she  will  accept 
the  gift;  the  boy  having  meanwhile  bought  a 
large  round  cake.  "  Will  mademoiselle  break 
the  cake  with  me!  ' '  says  he.  If  she  accept,  they 
consider  themselves  as  engaged,  after  which 
their  families  meet  together  and  discuss  the 
conditions  of  the  marriage. 

At  Creac'higuel,  near  Eosporden,  the  pardon 
endures  for  three  days,  and  here  one  sees  the 
wonderful  'broidered  waistcoats  and  collarettes 
and  beribboned  hats  of  the  young  men  of  Pont 
Aven,  Quimperle,  and  Scaer,  unique  in  all 
Brittany. 

In  July,  at  Guingamp,  is  the  procession  to 
Our  Lady  of  Good  Help,  with  the  inevitable 
salute  of  firearms,  and  a  torchlight  procession 
of  ten  or  twelve  thousand  pilgrims  —  and  some 
others  who  are  merely  profane  lookers-on. 

The  "  Benediction  of  the  Sea  "  at  Concar- 
neau,  Douarnenez,  Trebone,  and  many  other 
seacoast  villages  and  hamlets,  is  another  re- 
ligious manifestation  which  is  always  attractive 
to  the  curious. 


352  Rambles  in  Brittany 

At  the  pardon  of  St.  Jean  du  Doigt  the 
precious  relic  of  the  saint  is  guarded  before 
the  high  altar  of  the  church  by  an  abbe  clad 
in  his  surplice  and  holding  in  his  hand  the 
precious  finger  enveloped  in  fine  linen.  One 
by  one  the  faithful  pass  before  the  abbe  and 
touch,  for  an  instant,  the  sainted  relic. 

Near  the  choir,  another  cleric  holds  aloft  the 
skull  of  St.  Meriadec,  before  which  the  pil- 
grims bow  their  heads  as  they  pass.  Before 
leaving  the  church,  in  response  to  the  call, 
"Dour  ar  bis!  Dour  ar  bis!"  sung  in  a 
strident  Celtic  voice,  the  pilgrims  repair  to  a 
fountain  attached  to  the  side  wall,  in  which  the 
finger  has  previously  been  bathed  at  the  end 
of  a  gold  chain.  Immediately  this  operation  is 
over,  the  devout  plunge  their  palms  deep  into 
the  sanctified  water  and  vehemently  rub  their 
eyes.  Then  the  pardon  is  finished,  and  the  pro- 
fane festivity  begins. 

"  Whence  come  you!  "  was  asked  of  a 
happy  family  of  three  at  St.  Jean  du  Doigt. 
"  From  St.  Jean-Brevelay, ' '  they  replied,  men- 
tioning a  village  a  hundred  kilometres  away, 
in  Morbihan.  "  We  have  walked  three  suns 
and  three  moons,' '  —  which  sounds  like  the 
American  Indian's  method  of  reckoning  by 
moons,  but  which  in  this  case  meant  merely  that 


J).JH*Ma""a  -i<}e1 


The"PAR.DoNo/ 

S.  JEA^-ctu-  DOiQT 


Pardon  of  St.  Jean  du  Doigt 


Religious  Festivals  353 

they  had  been  on  the  road  three  days  and  three 
nights. 

The  little  Church  of  St.  Jean  du  Doigt 
offers  complete  and  perfect  example  of  what 
a  village  church  should  be.  The  building  itself 
is  surrounded  by  the  churchyard,  with  its  monu- 
mental portal,  or  triumphal  arch,  as  it  is  always 
called  hereabouts,  its  sacred  fountain,  its  cal- 
vary, its  ossuary,  and  its  open-air  oratory  for 
the  celebration  of  the  mass  for  the  pilgrims. 

The  triumphal  arch  is  a  great  fifteenth-cen- 
tury gateway  surmounted  by  two  niches  con- 
taining two  ancient  Gothic  statues,  one  of  St. 
John  the  Baptist,  and  the  other  of  St.  Roch. 

With  the  coming  of  twilight,  when  the  mists 
roll  in  from  the  sea,  the  silhouetted  couples 
(lovers),  following  the  ancient  custom,  prom- 
enade arm  in  arm,  or  rather  hand  in  hand, 
each  holding  the  other  by  the  little  finger,  in 
deference  to  the  finger  of  St.  John. 

When  the  darkness  has  actually  fallen,  the 
bonfires  flame  out  on  the  far-away  sands,  the 
light  reflected  in  the  waves  in  truly  eerie 
fashion,  and  so  the  great  day  of  pardon  and 
festival  departs  into  the  past. 

Chant  and  song  play  a  great  part  in  all  these 
religious  festivals,  not  only  the  officiating 
priests,  but  the  public  singing.    These  religious 


354  Rambles  in  Brittany 

chants  seem  to  give  rise  to  others  less  devout, 
of  which  the  two  following  are  typical. 

If  one  is  in  South  Finistere  on  the  occasion 
of  the  celebration  of  the  ' '  Pardon  of  the  Sing- 
ers," he  will  hear  the  following  lines  sung 
tumultuously  by  the  local  swains: 

"  Entre  Brest  et  Lorient 
Leste,  leste, 
Entre  Brest  et  Lorient 
Lestement. 

"  Les  gabiers  de  la  misaine 
Sont  des  filles  de  quinze  ans. 
Entre  Brest  et  Lorient 
Leste,  leste." 

At  the  "  Pardon  of  the  Sea,"  in  the  Paimpol 
country,  one  hears  these  sombre  words: 

"  Tais-toi !  tais-toi !  maitresse  exquise  ! 
Je  vois  ma  mort  dans  l'eau." 

The  great  extent  to  which  the  Breton  people 
carry  their  respect  and  devotion  to  religious 
ceremony  of  all  sorts  is  no  better  exemplified 
than  in  the  observance  of  the  Miz-dus  (the  black 
months,  or  the  mourning  months)  by  those  who 
have  banded  themselves  together  and  formed 
a  sort  of  "  cult  of  the  dead."  In  reality,  how- 
ever, it  is  merely  a  mourning  for  the  departed, 


Religious  Festivals  355 

by  the  widows  or  mothers  of  the  fishermen  and 
sailors. 

In  November,  when  the  Miz-dus  begin, 
widows  in  most  picturesque,  though  sombre, 
costumes  are  continually  met  with  in  the  Mor- 
bihan,  and  such  seacoast  towns  as  Ploubaz- 
lanec,  Portz  —  even  (where  there  is  a  "wid- 
ows' cross/'  quite  the  most  frequented  shrine 
of  all)  Saint  Cast,  on  the  coast  of  the  Chan- 
nel, or  at  Pontivy. 

Anatole  le  Braz,  in  the  "  Legend  of  the 
Dead,"  has  written  a  complete  history  of  the 
funeral  superstitions  which  obtain  in  Brittany 
at  this  season. 

The  "  Cult  of  the  Dead,"  as  it  is  known,  is 
unique  among  similar  observances  in  all 
France.  Virtually  it  is  a  display  of  devotion 
and  respect  for  one's  ancestors.  In  the  rural 
and  seacoast  parishes  of  Morbihan,  Finistere, 
and  the  Cotes  du  Nord  the  custom  is  found 
most  highly  developed. 

The  little  cemeteries  of  Brittany  are  better 
than  mere  formal  gardens  with  rectangular 
walks  and  well-clipt  trees  and  hedges.  Mostly, 
they  have  winding  little  alleys,  and  are  set  out 
with  apple-trees  and  wild-flowers. 

In  downright  bad  taste,  these  cemeteries,  in 
common  with  most  others  in  France,  have  an 


356  Rambles  in  Brittany 

abundance  of  wire  and  bead  memorial  wreaths 
and  crowns.  Why  it  is  that  the  French,  with 
their  usually  highly  developed  artistic  sense, 
affect  these  artificialities,  is  a  question  to  which 
no  one  has  had  the  temerity  to  devise  an 
answer. 

At  Ploubazlanec,  a  tiny  village  settled  upon 
a  cliff  overlooking  the  Bay  of  Paimpol,  are  the 
funeral  monuments  of  many  who  have  lost  their 
lives  by  drowning  in  a  frozen  sea,  as  you  will 
be  told. 

In  1901,  three  ships  from  these  parts  disap- 
peared, crew  and  cargo,  following  the  sinister 
local  expression,  in  the  cold  waters  off  Iceland, 
whither  the  little  fleet  had  gone  for  the  fishing. 
In  the  cemetery,  in  the  side  of  the  mortuary 
chapel,  is  a  section  known  as  i '  the  wall  of  those 
who  disappeared,' '  and  here  you  may  read, 
many  times  repeated,  such  inscriptions  as  the 
following : 

"En  M<5moire  de  Gilles  Br6zellec,  17  ans,  d6c6de"  a  Islande. 
En    M6moire   de    Jean-Marie    Brezellec,  16    ans,   d6c£d6   a 

Islande. 
En  MSmoire  de  Yves  Brezellec,  37  ans,  d6c6de*  a  Islande. 
Priez  Dieu  pour  eux ! " 

A  whole  family  shattered  and  broken  up,  leav- 
ing perhaps  a  wife  and  an  old  mother  depend- 


Religious  Festivals  357 


ent  upon  charity,  or  such  a  scanty  living  as  can 
be  picked  up  intermittently. 

At  Kerity,  also,  is  an  Icelanders'  cemetery, 
and  here  one  may  read  the  names,  beginning 
with  that  of  the  captain,  of  the  crew  of  twenty, 
all  hailing  from  the  home  port  of  Kerity,  who 
were  lost  in  the  white  fiords  of  Iceland  in  an- 
other catastrophe. 

Nowhere  in  the  known  world  is  there  any- 
thing like  the  wholesale  risk  of  life  which  goes 
on  yearly  from  the  ports  of  Finistere  and  the 
Cotes  du  Nord,  unless  it  be  that  among  the 
American  fishermen  on  the  Grand  Banks,  hail- 
ing from  Gloucester,  on  Massachusetts  Bay. 

If  the  visitor  to  Brittany  has  not  yet  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  heroes  of  Loti's  "  Ice- 
land Fishermen,"  he  should  do  so  forthwith, 
for  it  was  at  Ploubazlanec  that  the  great  Yann 
Gaos  was  interred,  and  near  him  reposed  his 
father  and  little  Sylvestre. 

The  Celtic  spirit  of  the  modern  Breton  has 
preserved  the  legend  or  superstition  of  "  An- 
Ankou,"  the  spirit  of  death.  In  many  villages 
one  may  interrogate  a  peasant  or  a  fisherman, 
who  will  affirm  that  it  is  "  Ankou  "  who  leads 
the  way  for  the  funeral-car  and  who  waits  at 
the  grave  to  carry  the  soul  of  the  departed  away 
with  him  after  the  others  have  left. 


358  Rambles  in  Brittany 


Among  the  superstitious  signs  which  presage 
the  coming  of  the  ' '  Ankou  ' '  are,  a  ball  of  fire, 
which  rests  upon  the  tiles  of  the  roof  over  the 
stricken  one,  —  a  most  unlikely  thing,  one  would 
think,  —  the  theft  of  grain  by  crows,  the  tap- 
ping of  a  window-pane  by  the  beak  of  a  sea- 
bird,  the  prolonged  bellowing  of  cattle  by  the 
light  of  the  moon,  a  candle  which  will  not  light, 
or  for  a  peasant  to  split  or  cleave  two  pairs 
of  wooden  shoes  in  one  week. 


THE   END. 


APPENDICES 


THE   PROVINCES   OF   FRANCE 

Up  to  1789,  there  were  thirty-three  great  governments 
making  up  modern  France,  the  twelve  governments  created 
by  Francis  I.  being  the  chief,  and  seven  petits  gouvernements 
as  well. 


The  Provinces  of  France 


369 


360 


Appendices 


In  the  following  table  the  grands  gouvernements  of  the  first 
foundation  are  indicated  in  heavy-faced  type,  those  which 
were  taken  from  the  first  in  italics,  and  those  which  were 
acquired  by  conquest  in  ordinary  characters. 

NAMES  OF  GOVERNMENTS 

1.  Ile-de-France     . 

2.  Picardie     . 

3.  Normandie 

4.  Bretagne 

5.  Champagne  et  Brie 

6.  Orleanais   . 

7.  Maine  et  Perche 


8. 

9. 
10. 
11. 
12. 
13. 


Anjou 

Touraine 

Nivernais 

Berri 

Poitou 

Aunis 


14.  Bourgogne  (duche-  de) 

15.  Lyonnais,  Forez  et  Beaujolais 

16.  Auvergne  .... 

17.  Bourbonnais 

18.  Marche      .... 

19.  Guyenne  et  Gascogne 

20.  Saintonge  et  Angoumois  1 

21.  Limousin   .... 

22.  Be'arn  et  Basse  Navarre    . 

23.  Languedoc 

24.  Comte'  de  Foix  . 

25.  Provence    .... 

26.  Dauphine  .... 

27.  Flandre  et  Hainaut    . 

28.  Artois        .... 

29.  Lorraine  et  Barrois    . 

30.  Alsace        .... 

31.  Franche-Comte  ou  Comte  de  Bourgogne 

32.  Roussilon  .... 

33.  Corse         .... 


CAPITALS 

Paris. 

Amiens. 

Rouen. 

Rennes. 

Troyes. 

Orleans. 

Le  Mans. 

Angers. 

Tours. 

Nevers. 

Bourges. 

Poitiers. 

La  Rochelle. 

Dijon. 

Lyon. 

Clermont. 

Moulins. 

Gu6"ret. 

Bordeaux. 

Saintes. 

Limoges. 

Pau. 

Toulouse. 

Foix. 

Aix. 

Grenoble. 

Lille. 

Arras. 

Nancy. 

Strasbourg. 

Besancon. 

Perpignan. 

Bastia. 


*  Under  Francis  I.  the  Angoumois  was  comprised  in  the  Orleanais. 


Appendices 


361 


The  seven  petits  gouvernements  were  : 

1.  The  ville,  pr^vote"  and  vicomte"  of  Paris. 

2.  Havre  de  Grace. 

3.  Boulonnais. 

4.  Principality  of  Sedan. 

5.  Metz  and  Verdun,  the  pays  Messin  and  Verdunois. 

6.  Toul  and  Toulois. 

7.  Saumur  and  Saumurois. 


ii. 


THE  ANCIENT  PROVINCES  OF  FRANCE 


362 


Appendices 


III. 


THE   PRINCIPAL   PAYS   AND   PAGI   OF   BRITTANY 


Pays  d'Alet 

Pays  de  Briere 

Cornouailles     . 

Le  Desert 

Dinannois 

Pays  de  Dol     . 

Pays  de  Greve 

L6onais 

Nantais 

Rennois 

Pays  de  Vannes 


Ille  et  Vilaine. 
Loire  Infr. 
Finistere. 
Ille  et  Vilaine. 
C6tes  du  Nord. 
C6tes  du  Nord. 
C6tes  du  Nord. 
Finistere. 
Loire  Infr. 
Ille  et  Vilaine. 
Morbihan. 


IV. 


COUNTS  AND  DUKES  OF  BRTTTANY 


Nominoe  .     .     .     .     „ 

824 

Guerech     .     .     . 

.     .       980 

Erispoe 

851 

Conan  I.   .     .     . 

.       987 

Salomon 

857 

Geoffroy  I.     .     . 

.     .       992 

Pasqueten     and     Gur- 

Alain  III.       .     . 

.     .     1008 

vaud 

874 

Conan  II.       .     . 

.     .     1040 

Alain  I 

877 

Hoelll.     .     .     . 

.     .     1066 

Gurmailhon    .... 

907 

Alain  Fergent    . 

.     .     1084 

Juhael    Be>anger    .     . 

930 

Conan  III.     .     . 

.     .     1112 

Alain  II.  (Barbe  Torte) 

937 

Eudes  and  Hoel  III 

[.    .     1148 

Drogon      ...... 

952 

Geoffroy  II.    .     . 

.     .     1156 

Hoell.       ,...■. 

953 

Constance  and  Art 

hur     1171 

Appendices 


363 


Pierre    Mauclerc    and 

Alix 1186 

Jean  1 1213 

Jean  II 1237 

Arthur  II.      ....  1286 

Jean  III 1305 

Charles  de  Blois      .     .  1312 

Jean  IV.  de  Montfort  1341 

JeanV. 1365 


Francois  1 1399 

Pierre  II.       .     .     ,     .     1450 
Arthur  III.    .     .     .     .     1457 
Francois  II.      ...     1458 
Duchess     Anne,     who 
married    Charles 
VIII.  and  afterward 
Louis  XI.  of  France, 

1488-1513 


THE  METRIC    SYSTEM 


METRICAL   AND   ENGLISH    WEIGHTS   AND    MEASURES 

Metre  =  39.3708  in.  =  3.231.     3  ft.  3  1-2  in.  =  1.0936  yard. 

Square  Metre  (metre  carre")  =  1  l-5th  square  yards  (1.196). 

Are  (or  100  sq.  metres)  =  119.6  square  yards. 

Cubic  Metre  (or  Stere)  =  35  1-2  cubic  feet. 

Centimetre  =  2-5ths  inch. 

Kilometre  =  1,093  yards  =  5-8  mile. 

10  Kilometres  =  6  1-4  miles. 

100  Kilometres  =  62  l-10th  miles. 

Square  Kilometre  =  2-5ths  square  mile. 

Hectare  =  2  1-2  acres  (2.471). 

100  Hectares  =  247.1  acres. 

Gramme  =  15  1-2  grains  (15.432). 

10  Grammes  =  l-3d  oz.  Avoirdupois. 

15  Grammes  =  1-2  oz.  Avoirdupois. 

Kilogramme  =  2  l-5th  lbs.  (2.204)  Avoirdupois. 

10  Kilogrammes  =  22  lbs.  Avoirdupois. 

Metrical  Quintal  =  220  1-2  lbs.  Avoirdupois. 

Tonneau  =  2,200  lbs.  Avoirdupois. 

Litre  =  0.22  gal.  =  13-4  pint. 

Hectolitre  =  22  gallons. 


364 


Appendices 


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Appendices  365 


ENGLISH    AND    METRICAL   WEIGHTS   AND   MEASURES 

Inch  =  2.539  centimetres  =  25.39  millimetres. 

2  inches  =  5  centimetres  nearly. 

Foot  =  30.47  centimetres. 

Yard  =  0.9141  metre. 

12  yards  =  11  metres  nearly. 

Mile=  1.609  kilometre. 

Square  foot  =  0.093  metre  carre\ 

Square  yard  =  0.836  metre  carre\ 

Acre  =  0.4046  hectare  =  4,003  sq.  metres  nearly. 

2  1-2  acres  =  1  hectare  nearly. 

Pint  =  0.5679  litre. 

1  3-4  pint  =  1  litre  nearly. 
Gallon  =  4.5434  litres  =  4  nearly. 
Bushel  =  36.347  litres. 

Oz.  Troy  =  31.103  grammes. 

Pound  Troy  (5,760  grains)  =  373.121  grammes. 

Oz.  Avoirdupois  =  8.349  grammes. 

Pound  Avoirdupois  (7,000  grains)  =  453.592  grammes. 

2  lbs.  3  oz.  =  kilogramme  nearly. 
100  lbs.  =  45.359  kilogrammes. 
Cwt.  =  50.802  kilogrammes. 
Ton  =  1,018.048  kilogrammes. 


366 


Appendices 


VI. 

Sketch  Map  of   Circular    Tour  in  Brittany.    Fares   from 
Kennes,  65  francs,  1st  class ;   50  francs,  2d  class. 


Itinerary:  Rennes,  Saint  -  Malo  -  Saint  -  Servan,  Dinard, 
Saint-Brieuc,  Guingamp,  Lannion,  Morlaix,  Roscoff,  Brest, 
Quimper,  Douarnenez,  Pont-l'Abb6,  Concarneau,  Lorient, 
Auray,  Quiberon,  Vannes,  Savenay,  Le  Croisic,  Gue>ande, 
Saint-Nazaire,  Pont-Chateau,  Redon,  Rennes. 


Appendices 


367 


VII. 


Cloturt  ^*^ 

Me«i(*triere. 


1  :rv~^^7=7^?Fn-i  '  - 


Architectural  Names  of  the  Various  Parts  of  a  Feudal  Chateau 


368 


Appendices 


VIII. 


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I   JAUHl     J 


Tide  and  Weather  Signals  in  the  Ports  of  Brittany 


Appendices  369 


By  day  the  signals  showing  the  depth  of  water  —  in  metres 
—  at  the  harbour  entrance  are  shown  by  balls  or  small  bal- 
loons ;  at  night  these  are  replaced  by  lanterns.  (See  top 
diagram.)  The  flag  signals  of  the  other  diagrams  explain 
themselves. 


IX. 

THE   PRINCIPAL   PARDONS   OF   BRITTANY 

DEPARTMENT    OF    FINIS TERE 

Plougastel-Daoulas. —  Easter  Monday,  the  Monday  of 
Pentecote,  29th  June,  and  15th  August. 

Pont  l'Abbf; 25th  March,  Monday  of  Pentecote,  3d  Sun- 
day of  July,  4th  Sunday  of  September. 

Concarneau (Ste.  Gu£nol6)  First  Sunday  in  May,  (Sainte 

Croix)  14th  September,  (Pardon  du  Rosaire)  First  Sun- 
day in  October. 

Bannalec.  —  Ascension  Day. 

Quimperle*.  —  Trinity  Sunday,  second  Sunday  of  May,  last 
Sunday  of  July,  third  Sunday  in  September. 

Quimperle" — Easter  Monday. 

Rumengal.  —  Trinity  Sunday. 

Loctudy Sunday  following  11th  May,  and  2d  Sunday  of 

August. 

Pont  Aven. — >  Second  Sunday  of  May  and  third  Sunday  of 
September. 

Saint  Jean  du  Doigt.  —  23d  and  24th  June. 

Roscoff.  —  Mid-June  and  15th  August. 

Camaret  (Fete  de  la  Peche  et  Benediction  de  la  Mer) 

Third  Sunday  in  June. 

Locronan  (Petite  Trom6nie  every  year ;  Grande  Trom^nie 
every  six  years).  —  Second  Sunday  of  July. 

Rosporden.  —  Second  Sunday  in  July. 

Le  Folgoet.  —  15th  August,  and  7th  and  8th  September. 


370  Appendices 


Quimper.  —  15th,  16th,  and  17th  August. 
Huelgoat.  — Three  days  —  first  Sunday  of  August. 
Ste.  Anne  de  la  Palude.  —  Saturday  evening  and  last  Sun- 
day of  August. 
Scaer.  —  Last  Sunday  of  August. 
Audierne.  —  Last  Sunday  of  August. 
Penmarc'h  (Pardon  du  Rosaire).  —  First  Sunday  of  October. 

department  of  the  morbihan 

St.  Gildas  de  Rhuis.  —  29th  of  January. 

Auray.  —  (Ouverture  du  Pardon  de  St.  Anne)  7th   March, 

(Principal  Pardon)  25th  and  26th  of  July. 
Locmine\  —  Three  days  from  the  Sunday  nearest  27th  June. 
Ste.  Barbe  en  Faouet. —  Last  Sunday  of  June. 
St.  Fiacre  pres  le  Faouet.  —  Fourth  Sunday  in  July. 
Locmariaquer.  —  Second  Sunday  in  September. 
Pontivy.  —  Second  Sunday  in  September. 
Carnac.  —  Third    Sunday    in    September,    (Pardon    of    St. 

Comely)  the  Sunday  nearest  the  14th  September. 
Pont  Scorff.  —  Third  Sunday  in  September. 
Le  Faouet.  —  First  Sunday  in  October. 


X. 

A  BRIEF  LIST  OF  SOME  OF  THE  MORE  IMPOR- 
TANT PREFIXES  OF  PLACE-NAMES  IN  BRIT- 
TANY, WITH  THEIR  DEFINITIONS 

Bod,  Bot.  —  A  place  surrounded  by  a  wood.    Bodilis,  Botsorheh 

Bras,  Bre.  —  High,  elevated.     Braspart,  Brelevene\ 

Cone,  —  A  harbour  or  bay,     Concarneau,  le  Conquet. 

Car. —  A  manor  or  chateau.     Carhaix. 

Coat.  —  A  wood  or  forest.     Coatascorn,  Coatreven. 

Crug. —  Amid  the  rocks.     Cruguel. 

Faou.  —  A  place  planted  with  oaks.     Le  Faouet. 

Guic Bourg.     Guichen  (old  bourg), 


Appendices 


371 


Hen.  —  Old.     Henvic,  Henpont. 

Ker  or  Kaer.  —  Manor,  chateau.     Kerlouan,  Kervignac. 

Lan.  —  Church  or  consecrated  spot.     Lannion,  Lanildut. 

Les,  Lis. —  Court  or  jurisdiction.     Lesneven,  Lezardrieux. 

Loc  —  Oratoire  or  hermitage.     Locmaria. 

Me'ne. —  Mountain.     M6ne"  Bre\ 

Mor.  —  The  sea.     Morbihan  (la  petite  mer). 

Pen Promontory  summit  or  extremity.     Penmarc'h,  Paim- 

boeuf  (par  corruption). 
Pie,  Plea,  Plo,   Plou,    Plu.  —  Parish.     P16h<§del,    Pleudihen, 

Plouha. 
Poul.  —  Hole  or  basin.     Pouldergat. 

Ros Hill  or  slope.     Roscoff,  Rosporden. 

Tref,  Tre.  —  Part  of  a  parish.     Tregastel,  Tremelior. 


XI. 

THE  BRETON  TONGUE  IN  BRITTANY  TO-DAY  * 


D^PAKTEMENT 

INDIVIDUALS 

UNDERSTANDING 

ONLY  BRETON 

INDIVIDUALS 

UNDERSTANDING 

BRETON    AND 

FRENCH 

Cotes  du  Nord 

Finistere 

Morbihan 

145,000 
352,000 
182,700 

150,000 
302,000 
190,000 

It  is  a  regrettable  fact  that  the  Morbihan  has  the  greatest 
number  of  illiterates  of  any  of  the  departments  of  France. 
Among  a  hundred  conscripts  for  the  army,  often  thirty  or 
forty  are  classed  as  illiterate,  while  in  Finistere  and  the 
Cotes  du  Nord,  the  number  falls  to  thirty  or  less,  and  in  Hie 
et  Vilaine  to  less  than  twenty. 

1  This  table  takes  no  cognizance  of  those  speaking  French  only 
and  not  Breton,  whilst  the  three  departments  given  are  those 
only  in  which  the  knowledge  of  the  Breton  tongue  is  in  excess 
of  that  in  other  parts. 


INDEX  OF  PLACES 


Aire,  158. 

Ancenis    (and    chateau),    99- 

101. 
Angers    (and  castle),  24,   30, 

108,  119,  146,  243,  311,  316. 
Audierne,    89,     212,    213-214, 

370. 
Auray,  32,   157,   158,   159-167, 

172,  175,  178,  192,  309,  370. 

Bannelec,  194-195,  369. 

Batz,  Isle  of,   121,  240-242. 

Baud,    157,    158. 

Baule,  127. 

Becherel,  306. 

Beg-Meil,  201. 

Belle  He  en  Mer,  27,  34,  36, 

171,  173-175- 

Benzec  Capcaval,  211. 

Bere,  Fair  of,  129-130. 

Binic,  267-268,  270. 

Black  Mountains,  218. 

Bourg  de  Batz,  n  1,  121,  127. 

Brehat,  43,  259-260. 

Brest,  26,  32,  39,  41,  43,  44, 
47,  5i-  54,  56,  72,  87,  150, 
212,  220,  221-224,  225,  227, 
228,  229,  230,  236,  309,  310, 
340,  350. 

Camaret,  89,  219-220,  369. 
Cancale,  298-300. 
Cape  de  la  Chevre,  214,  217. 
Cap  Frehel,  290. 


Carhaix,  54,  310,  337-339- 
Carnac,    159,    163,    167,    168- 

171,  345,  370. 
Cesson,  Tower  of,  266. 
Cezon,  44. 
Champ  Dolent,  303. 
Champtoceaux  (and  chateau), 

104-105. 
Chateaubriant  (and  chateau), 

128-132. 
Chateaulin,  27,  2*17-218,  219. 
Chatelaudren,  263.^ 
CI isson     (and    chateau),    42, 

in,  114-115. 
Combourg      (and     chateau), 

305-308. 
Concarneau,    43,    89,    197-201, 

202,  205,  212,  215,  216,  219, 

224,  351,  369. 
Corseul,  146. 
Creac'higuel,  351. 
Croisic,  42,  III,  121,  127. 
Crozon,  217,  219. 

Daoulas,  229,  369. 

Dinan   (and  chateau),  24,  54, 

249,  271,  291-297. 
Dinard,  39,  249,  271,  273,  288- 

289,  290. 
Dol,   19,  39,  43,  54,  249,  303- 

305-  ,  ,      . 

Douarnenez     (and    bay),    32, 

38,  43,  51,  89,  187,  212,  214- 

216,  217,  219,  351. 


373 


374 


Index  of  Places 


Elven,  138. 

Ernee  (and  chateau),  312. 

Etables,  267. 

Falaise,  130. 

Faou,  220,  221. 

Faouet    (Finistere),    192-194. 

Folgoet,  224,  237-238,  369. 

Fontaine-Daniel,     Abbey     of, 

312. 
Fougeres     (and    forest),    54, 

262,  309,  310,  312,  313-315, 

316,  321,  340. 
Fouquet,  Chateau,  27,  174. 

Grand  Briere,  125. 
Guerande,    121,    125-127. 
Guibray,  Fair  of,  130. 
Guingamp    (and    castle),    54, 
86,  87,  250,  260-262,  351. 

Hede,  306. 

Hennebont,     146,     179,     182- 

185. 
Huelgoat,  310,  339-340,  370. 

Javron,  313. 
Joie,  Abbaye  de  la,  185. 
Josselin    (and   chateau),    150, 
IS2-I57,  309,  337- 

Kererault,  229. 

Kerity,  357. 

Kerlean,  Manoir  of,  138. 

Kerlescan,  169. 

Kerlouan,  224. 

Kermario,  169. 

Kermartin,   Manor  of,  255. 

Lacroix,  44. 

La  Houle,  299. 

"  La  Joyeuse  Garde,"  Cha- 
teau of,  227. 

Lamballe,  268-269. 

Landeau,  315-316. 

Landerneau,  221,  224-227, 
3io,  340. 

Landivisiau,   221,   227-228. 


Lannion,  24,  74,  89,  250-252. 
Largoet,  Fortress  of,  138. 
La  Roche-Bernard,   128. 
La  Trinite,  177-178. 
Laval   (and  chateau),  54,  56, 

310,  316-318,  322. 
Le  Conquet,  230-231,  236. 
Lehon,  297-298. 
Le  Legue,  266. 
Le  Mans,  54,  310. 
Locmariaquer,    146,    159,    167. 

175-176,  370. 
Locmine,  157-158,  370. 
Lorient,   43,   44,   54,   89,    144, 

175,  I79-i8i,  182. 
Loudeac,  310,  334-335- 

Mayenne    (and  chateau),   54, 

309,  310,  311-312,  316,  322. 
Menac,  169. 
Minden,  Fort,  44. 
Miniac,  306. 
Molene,  He,  232-233. 
Montauban,  334. 
Mont  Dol,  303. 
Montfort-sur-Meu,    310,    333- 

334. 
Mont  St.  Michel   (and  bay), 

34,  39,  43,  46,  54,  60,  249, 

298,  300-302,  303. 
Morlaix,  43,   54,   63,  94,  238, 

244-247,  249,  340. 
Motte-Broons,  293. 

Nantes  (and  castle),  4,  7, 
19,  22,  24,  26,  30,  36,  38, 
39,  54,  56,  57,  67,  102,  104, 
105-110,  in,  112,  115,  116- 
121,  124,  127,  146,  174,  211, 
221,  243. 

Notre  Dame  de  la  Clarte, 
350-351- 

Oudon,  104. 

Ouessant,  He,  43,  44,  232,  233- 

236. 
Our     Lady     of     Langonnet, 
I       Abbey  of,  194. 


Index  of  Places 


375 


Paimboeuf,  42,   in,   112. 
Paimpol,  257-259. 
Palais,  44,  173,  175. 
Parame,    39,    271,    272,    274- 

276. 
Penmarc'h,    31,    208,   210-21 1, 

370. 
Penthievre,  7,  44,  171. 
Pilier,  44. 

Ploermel,  54,  150-152. 
Ploubazlanec,  355,  356,  357. 
Ploudalmezeau,  236-237. 
Plougasnou,  25,  64. 
Plougastel,  221,  228-230,  350, 

369. 
Plouharnel,  167,  171. 
Pointe  de  Kerpenhir,   145. 
Point  of  Primel,  247. 
Point  of  Raz,  212,  213,  214. 
Point  Sizun,  212. 
Point  St.   Mathieu,  212. 
Pont  Aven,  82,  187,  201,  202- 

205,  351,  369. 
Pont    Croix,   214. 
Pontivy  (and  castle),  54,  334- 

337,  355,  370. 
Pont  l'Abbe,  27,  82,  187,  208- 

210,  369. 
Pont  Scorff,  179,  185-186,  370. 
Pornic     (and     chateau),     42, 

in,  112-114. 
Port  Haliguen,  172. 
Port  Louis,  44,  181-182. 
Port  Maria,  172. 
Port  Navalo,  43,  145. 
Portz,  355. 
Pouldu,   190. 
Poulgoazec,  214. 
Pre-en-Pail,  309. 
Primelin,  214. 


Questembert,  136. 

Quiberon,  44,  163,  167,  170, 
I7I-I73,  175. 

Quimper,  19,  27,  32,  38,  41, 
53-  54,  60,  72,  75,  82,  93, 
128,   205-208,  212,  224,  370. 


Quimperle,   187-190,   191,  309, 
35i,  369. 

Redon,  24,  128,  132-136. 
Rennes,    19,    22,    24,    25,    41, 

54,    57,    75,    118,    128,    146, 

150,  310,  316,  329-333,  343- 
Rimains,  Fort  des,  44. 
Rochefort-en-T  e  r  r  e      (and 

chateau),  27,  136-138. 
Rochers,  Chateau  of,  324-328. 
Roc'hquerezen,    229. 
Roc'hquillion,    229. 
Roc'huivlen,  229. 
Roscanvel,  217. 

Roscoff,  43,  75,  238-240,  369. 
Rosporden,   31,    194,    195-196, 

201,  351,  369. 
Rostrenen,  337. 
Rotheneuf,  286-287. 
Rumengal,  346,  350,  369. 

Sauzon,  175. 

Savenay,  41,  124-125,  128,  130. 

Scaer,  349,  351,  370. 

Seven  Isles,  256-257. 

St.  Briac,  27,  290-291. 

St.    Brieuc,    19,    29,    60,    262, 

263-266,  268,  270. 
St.  Cast,  26,  67,  290,  355. 
Ste.  Anne  de  la  Palude,  346, 

350,    370. 
Ste.    Marguerite,   127. 
St.  £nogat,  273,  288.  289-290. 

St.    Fiacre,   26,    191- 192,    370. 
St.  Gildas  de  Rhuis,  27,   148, 

370. 
St.  Guenole,  211. 
St.  Jacut,  27,  272-273,  290. 
St.  Jean-Brevelay,  352. 
St.    Jean    du    Doigt,   247-248, 

346,    350,    352-353,    369- 
St.  Lunaire,  27,  290. 
St.    Malo    (and   bay),   9,    19, 

27,  39,  43,  44,  54,  56,  57, 
61,  63,  67,  94,  249,  271-274. 
276-283.  285,  288,  291,  300. 


376 


Index  of  Places 


St.    Maurice,   Abbey  of,   190- 

191. 
St.  Meen,  334. 
St.   Nazaire,  39,  109-111,  112, 

121,  122-124,  128,  144. 
St.  Nicolas,  205. 
St.   Pol  de  Leon,  19,  27,  60, 

206,  238,  242-244. 
St.  Renan,  236. 
St.  Servan,  27,  271,  272,  276, 

283-285. 
St.  Thegonnec,  350. 
St.  Yves,  346,  350- 
Suscino,  Chateau  of,  148-150. 

Taureau,   Chateau   du,  44. 
Tenteniac,  306. 


Tombelaine,  Isle  of,  34,  302- 

303. 
Trebone,  351. 
Treguier,   19,  24,  60,  94,  206, 

250,  252-256. 
Trelaze,  29. 
Tristan,  He,  215-216. 
Tromenie  de  St.  Ronan,  346. 

Val  Andre,  263,  269-270. 

Vannes,  19,  24,  43,  54,  60,  75, 
128,  134,  136",  138,  139,  140- 
148,  150,  175,  187,  221. 

Ville  Martin,  44. 

Vitre  (and  chateau),  24,  54, 
262,  310,  318-324- 


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